


The Long and Winding Road

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Harry are fifty years old. Draco owns a shop at the end of Diagon Alley and Harry is an Auror. They are both divorced and they have children from their previous marriages. Is this their time to be together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bathilda Bagshot's Bingo on hp_goldenage.
> 
> At the moment the rating is PG but it could get more explicit.

  
  
The apothecary “ _Potions, Potions and Posies_ ” was at the end of Diagon Alley, a few meters from the spot where the road stretched like a fish spine into the deepest nerves of Wizarding London.  
  
Draco loved the location, a bit secluded and yet easy to detect. That over the years had guaranteed him a fairly steady clientele, made of wizards who were not afraid to move far from the restored bright centre of Potter’s square.  
  
The shop consisted of a small room with an adjoining warehouse at the back. The walls were painted a greenish-yellow, reassuring and pleasant to the eyes, and covered by wood shelves and glass cases that kept the most popular potions and those which, according to the dictates of the Ministry, could have been exposed to the buyers without fear of accidents. At the centre of the room, Draco had put a pair of green metal tables and a few chairs, which allowed his customers to sit and relax. Later the tables had been moved to the left, by an obstinate Ravenclaw who had decided to spend his free time studying at his father’s shop.  
  
“Oh ... fascinating. Charming!”  
  
Draco turned to his son, busy with what was supposed to be a really exciting textbook. _Or Textbooks_ , to be precise. Scorpius had the habit of reading more books by opening them simultaneously, placing them on the table and hopping with his eyes from one volume to another.  
  
“What’s so fascinating,” he asked, intrigued by Scorpius’ vocal appreciation, (after all Draco was used to a silent reading, interrupted by comments only in exceptional cases.) “to capture the attention of my only heir?”

  
Scorpius looked up, his eyes grey and blue as a spring sky, and gave his father an enthusiastic grin.  
  
“This volume explores the links between blood magic and non-verbal magic! It’s an incredibly interesting reading, if you think about it, because many books don’t even talk about this subject and it’s such a rare ...”  
  
Suddenly Scorpius’ attention was captured by a written passage. Draco turned to catalogue the Amortentia bottles arranged in the counter, suppressing a smirk.  
  
Scorpius’ curiosity and insight were such a source of pride and tenderness for him. The lively intelligence of his son, his creativity, infused in Draco the hope that his boy would have become a better man than he ever was. A free man, capable to distinguish good from evil.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Oh?” Draco repeated, sealing the bottles with skill. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re going to stun me with questions?"  
  
Scorpius frowned and stared at his father, as if he was gathering hints to organise his thoughts. So the question had to be particularly relevant.  
  
“Father ...” he began, almost uncertain. “Have you ever loved?”  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows, inclining his head in amazement.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Yes, I mean ... it happened, right? To love someone for real. With all your heart and stuff like that.”  
  
“And stuff like that … I would hope that you already knew the answer. You’re my son and I ...”  
  
“No, no!” Scorpius interrupted, waving a hand. “I don’t mean love for children or family bonds. I’m talking about romantic love … _attraction_. Falling in love for somebody.”  
  
Draco’s eyebrows continued to draw an arc of disbelief on his forehead and though his lips were parted he did not give off a breath.  
  
“And what kind of question is that, may I ask?” He finally articulated in a slightly shrill voice.  
  
“What kind of question? Really?” Scorpius said, mirroring his father’s disbelief.  
  
“Don’t get sassy with me,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see why ... I don’t understand how ...”  
  
“You always answer my questions.”  
  
“I try to.”  
  
“Except this one.”  
  
“You were never so direct!” Draco said, putting the packages on an empty shelf. “See, Scorpius ... when you get at my age and you try to make a sense of personal relationships ...”  
  
“Father, I’m not asking you to make a sense of anything. I’m just wondering if you were ever in love with someone.”  
  
Draco gave a careless dusting to the shelf, but could not find the words to answer his son’s request.  
  
  
  
The working day had ended without a hitch, despite some anxiety about the shipping products and the embarrassment for Scorpius’ unexpected question. One would imagine that at seventeen any residual curiosity about your parents’ private affairs would have been exhausted!  
  
Draco sighed, waving his wand to turn off the shop lights. All the apothecaries in the area were already closed, leaving only him in a street just lit by lanterns when the sound of footsteps interrupted his train of thought. A sound that had come to know so well.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Tightening the bolts of the front door with a last flick of the wand, Draco turned.  
  
Harry Potter was standing before him, smiling and flushed, with his greying beard and the shiny Auror uniform all crumpled and open on his neck. He had the most desperately messy hair and glasses crooked on his nose.  
  
“Potter,” Draco greeted, without losing the aplomb worthy of a Malfoy. “Do I detect pieces of Blast-Ended Skrewts on your head or you just forgot to comb?”  
  
Harry chuckled, scratching his hair from which, amazingly, fell ash.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” he began as an awkward schoolboy. “I know I was supposed to be here two hours ago but …”  
  
“… But you were busy saving the fate of the Wizarding World!" Draco suggested. “Don’t worry. I understand your duties,” he added, more gently.  
  
They stared at each other in silence, Harry and Draco, in the lonely street illuminated by golden lanterns. Then Harry held out a calloused hand and Draco grabbed it, trying to dominate the warmth building inside him.  
  
_What answers to give to Scorpius …_  
  
“Hungry?” Harry asked, offering his arm like a gentleman.  
  
“Terribly.”  
  
“Let’s go then.”


	2. Chapter 1

  
  
  
The restaurant was already closed. Hungry and undeterred, Draco and Harry Apparated close by an intersection of Muggle London, near a place where Harry used to go at the end of his interminable working nights.   
  
Draco felt very reassured by the thought of being far away from prying eyes, but a bit less reassured by the nature of the place.   
  
“Come on! It’s a fast food, they are open all night!”   
  
_I realised that_ , the Slytherin thought, while getting dragged among plastic chairs and tacky furniture. Harry had spotted a table for two facing the street. A waitress was just cleaning it with a damp cloth, completely indifferent to the presence of the very few patrons. Years of practice in hiding his emotions had prevented Draco from falling horrified on the floor, yet the sight of a damp cloth on that kind of furniture was just too much even for a wizard who was able to maintain composure at Voldemort’s table.   
  
“Oh, here. Thank you,” Harry said, sitting down and gifting the waitress with a huge smile. “We can already order, right?”   
  
“Sure,” she murmured, offering two plastic menu. “I’ll be back in a sec.”   
  
Draco was standing very still, on his feet.   
  
“Something wrong?” asked a Harry Potter suddenly incapable of minimum deductive skills.   
  
Draco braced himself and sat before him.   
  
“I know this isn’t your kind of place. And I know that I shouldn’t have left you waiting in the shop alone ...”   
  
“Never mind.” Draco smiled. “I’ve already said that I understand your duties,” he found himself saying.   
  
And damn Potter and his ability to win him, to model his every desire with the tenderness and the relentlessness of the water sculpting a rock.   
  
Draco knew Harry’s power. He had known it for years; when, confused and vaguely terrified, he had realised that Amortentia had for him the same bitter sweetness of the Gryffindor Captain’s skin after a Quidditch match. He had known it since he had seen Harry walking through the halls of Hogwarts with his future wife of which, foolishly, he had wanted to take the place. He had known when Harry started to speak to him, years ago at King Cross during the departures of their sons and done that every year since.  
  
Draco had not existed in a constant state of falling in love with him, certainly. He had fathered Scorpius, lived his life and forgotten Potter several times. Yet, the desire he felt for the Chosen One returned to peep from time to time and Draco almost felt reassured by the persistence of such intimate and unspeakable feeling.   
  
“Thanks,” Harry whispered, taking his hand and giving him an open look that Draco wasn’t sure he could bear. “I promise you won’t regret it.”   
  
“Let’s hope I won’t. For your own good, Potter,” he warned, hiding an amused grin behind the menu page.   
  
The choices were terribly pedestrian. Draco had to opt for grilled chicken in balsamic vinegar, and Merlin help him!   
  
Harry had ordered a huge _ham-burger_ and chips with a sided mixture of different sauces, which he had offered with an explanatory gesture. After dinner Draco had to admit that it wasn’t so bad.   
  
“Enjoyed it, then?”   
  
“The chicken was digestible.”   
  
“Don’t be an arse, Malfoy!” the Auror cried out, elbowing him on the side.   
  
This time Draco didn’t held his grin.   
  
It was an unusually warm autumn night. Draco haven’t feel the need to take his coat while walking next to Harry, hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket, long hair tied behind his neck.   
  
Harry was busy devouring the strawberry ice cream he had ordered before paying the bill. The fact that he could eat so much and still be in such great shape at his age was an obscenity worthy of him.   
  
“Sure you don’t want a bite?”   
  
“No,” the Slytherin repeated, rolling his eyes. Not everyone could afford the diet of fifteen years old in full hormonal crisis. “I would like to point out that you only have a spoon, how could we both eat that?”   
  
Harry looked up and raised his eyebrows.   
  
Draco had to turn his attention elsewhere.   
  
“Let’s sit here for a minute,” the Auror proposed, making his way through the grass. There was a bench in the park they had chosen to visit. A bench in the moonlight.   
  
Draco swallowed, controlling his desire to escape.   
  
“Everything’s okay?” Potter asked with such awkward innocence. In that moment Draco had the distinct feeling that everything had been artfully planned by a bastard sneaky Gryffindor. Weren’t they supposed not to be sneaky?   
  
“Wonderful,” he lied, settling at safe distance from the heat emanating from Potter through his ridiculous red jacket.   
  
They stood in silence for a moment, then Harry spoke.   
  
“I feel like we need to talk, about what happened last week ...”   
  
“For Salazar, Potter! I have repeated at least a thousand times that it wasn’t a big deal for me! We kissed due to a temporary lack of judgment ... it happens! One innocent kiss …”   
  
“You’ve pushed me against the desk, in my office ...”   
  
“... Won’t compromise a cordial relationship that I feel inclined to even define friendship.”   
  
“... And we’ve stuck our hands in our pants,” Harry pointed out, licking the ice cream from his rosy lips. Treacherous, untrustworthy Gryffindor.   
  
“So? As I said, it was a temporary lack of judgment! I won’t let it happen a second time! I won’t …”   
  
“But I do.”   
  
“I’m sorry?”   
  
Harry got up to throw the empty cup in the rubbish bin. Then he sat down again, hands on his thighs and a determined expression on his face.   
  
“I do. I want to.”   
  
Draco swallowed again.   
  
“We’re going out since when, seven months ago? And we’ve been friends for a lot longer. I liked it when you kissed me against my desk. I really did. In all honesty, this week I did nothing but thinking of you and then I came to a simple conclusion: _I want you_ , Draco."   
  
Draco Malfoy knew with alarming certainty that the Sorting Hat didn’t make any mistakes, because he had never heard a romantic statement so bold and direct.   
  
“You’re trembling. It’s chilly now, isn’t it?” Potter murmured taking off his uniform jacket to cover Draco, in a gallant gesture that had to look ridiculous. “Better?”   
  
“I believe you’ve missed the fact that I’m not a girl.”   
  
“Oh no!” Harry laughed. “Believe me I didn’t miss that at all,” he added, bending his lips in a crooked smile.   
  
And Draco found himself blushing like a girl.   
  
“So what do you say?” Potter asked taking his hand.   
  
“What do you want me to say? I …”   
  
Harry’s lips were suddenly on his neck and it became increasingly difficult to appeal to sanity, better judgment or even Lucius’ sick facial expression.   
  
“Harry ...”   
  
“I don’t want to force you, nor will I cease to be your friend if you don’t want to be with me. I’ll need time to deal with that and probably I wouldn’t want to see you for a while,” he explained, taking a step back. “But you’ll still be dearest to me. So please, if you feel like I do ... just tell me. Let us try. I promise I’ll take care of you.”   
  
Draco was the man who, at eighteen, dreamed of replacing Ginny Weasley and that, centuries later, couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the news of her divorce. Draco had learned to live with the unattainable desire for a love he knew he would never ever had the chance to live.   
  
“You’re not saying no, but there’s something bothering you. Tell me about it.”   
  
Draco looked at Harry and returned his hold with a caress of his thumb.   
  
“I don’t know where to begin. _We’re old_ , Harry! We should have passed the stage of first dates and ‘trying’. We should have ... and then there are our children. What would they think about us? We cannot start a relationship if they don’t agree. And then ... there are so many things that could go wrong! You are an estimated Auror, you can aim to the promotion and even to the Ministry. I am …”   
  
“I don’t care of promotions and Ministry! I’ve lived too long under the illusion of wanting what I had and not what I needed. Draco ...”   
  
“Most of all, I am afraid that this would ruin our friendship. I don’t have so many friends these days. Being with you makes me feel ...”   
  
Harry bent down to kiss the back of his hand over and over again, dissolving any attempt of resistance in Draco’s heart.   
  
“I’ll always be your friend, I promise. I will never ever betray your trust. Look at me, Draco. I’m not saying bullshit. I know what I’m talking about.”   
  
The Slytherin’s smile was threatened by tears.   
  
“I’m always, always going to be a Malfoy ...”   
  
“And I see you and I want you.”   
  
Draco exhaled loudly, holding Harry’s hand with increasing force and getting closer and closer.   
  
The great incredible desire he had believed to be impossible.   
  
“I know what I’m talking about,” Harry Potter repeated, confirming the strong will behind his actions. “Let me in tonight, Draco. Let me into your life.”   
  
“Yes, yes …”   
  
_You already are_ , Draco thought surrendering to Harry’s warm kisses.


	3. Chapter 2

  
  
Draco’s apartment was modest in dimension, but neat and clean. It was tastefully furnished with paintings and art objects collected from all over the world. Art objects that were going to meet an ugly end because of the fury of a Harry Potter committed to kiss and squeeze every centimetre of their owner’s skin.  
  
“Fuck!” Harry exclaimed, barely catching a falling Chinese vase. “We should go to your room,” he moaned, without parting from Draco’s lips.  
  
The short path to the bedroom seemed to be full of obstacles and, just before they reached the door, Draco found himself pressed against the wall and stripped of his jacket and shirt.  
  
“Harry …”  
  
“I know, I know,” he panted, kissing Draco’s bare chest. “Not here.”  
  
And yet he gave no sign of stopping as he knelt to bury his face in Draco’s groin.  
  
“Oh God, Harry! It’s been so long … just … I don’t know if I can last …”  
  
Harry straightened up immediately. He kissed Draco again, while fumbling with his pants and boxers. Once that was done, he dragged his naked lover over the threshold and pushed him on the bed.  
  
Draco’s body was still slender and youthful, a pale vision in the darkness of the room. His face was flushed with excitement and his lips swollen. He was hiding his eyes with an arm, as if he was ashamed of offering himself like that.  
  
With a groan, Harry bent over and pushed away the arm, bit Draco’s reddened lips. Then started to undress above him, grinning back at his lover’s demanding glance.  
  
When he lay on top of Draco their bodies flushed for a moment and the combined magic warmed the room.  
  
Harry laughed.  
  
“It seems like we are compatible. Or does this happen all the time for you great Malfoys?”  
  
Draco gasped, wrapping his trembling legs around his lover’s waist.  
  
“Shut up and keep going. Please, Harry …”  
  
Harry kissed him again, gentler. He took a moment to stroke Draco’s angular face, to imprint his features in his mind. There were deep lines on the corner of Draco’s mouth and shadows under his heavy grey eyes. He wasn’t a Hogwarts student anymore, yet there was a mysterious innocence in him that Harry wanted so desperately to protect. His long blond hair, spread on the pillow like roots in the ground, was slowly turning white but it still felt soft under Harry’s fingerprints. And Draco was looking at him with such softness. Waiting.  
  
“Are you sure?” Harry asked.  
  
Draco just nodded.  
  
  
  
They fell asleep at dawn, enclosed in a tight sweaty embrace. Harry woke up a couple of hours later and sent two owls to Hogwarts and the Ministry. Then he made breakfast for two, pancakes, coffee and orange juice.  
  
As he grabbed a satiated Draco Malfoy, he found himself filled with such strange joy. As he was falling in love for the very first time.  
  
  
  
  
Draco awoke first, in the late afternoon. He emerged from the crumpled sheets to peer at the clock on the wall. His gaze was captured by a nine years old Scorpius smiling and waving from an old photo. He smiled back, remembering the time he took the photo, then brushed the Remembrall on his bedside table.  
  
Behind him, Harry Potter was occasionally snoring, burying his face in the pillows and moving his legs. Draco turned to him.  
  
He held his breath and felt the desire to pinch his arm or something – Scorpius had explained to him that it was something Muggles used to do, when they wanted to be sure they were not dreaming.  
  
Harry was really in his bed.  
  
Carefully, Draco approached his dormant shape until he was at a few centimetres from his nose. Harry had begun to breathe regularly. His mouth smelled like mint and the orange juice they had consumed at breakfast.  
  
His not very long beard was greying on the chin, where a few crumbs of buttered toast had remained. Draco didn’t even try to brush them away.  
  
Harry had one arm pressed on the curve of his neck and the other one underneath it, close to his chest, like a child protecting himself in sleep. His skin was scarred by battles fought over the last four decades, but his shoulders were broader. The Auror training had given him such a strong, virile look.  
  
One leg was flexed towards Draco and his thigh was hiding the muscles of his abdomen and the groin still covered in dark hair.  
  
Draco tried to get closer. He touched Harry’s leg very lightly and bent over to examine the round scar on Harry’s sternum, the new cut near his liver and Harry’s sex, half-hard and pink against the mattress.  
  
Draco breathed out and turned to look again at Harry’s face.  
  
His always untamable hair, too long to have been cut only few days before, was hiding the first mark, that lightning scar that Voldemort gave him at only one year of age. Draco pushed the locks away as gently as possible, trying to get a better view of Harry’s forehead.  
  
The lighting scar was different from that close. The edges were not so fully defined and it was almost impossible to distinguish the shape. The cut was very light, although in the middle there was a darker and sunken part. It felt so smooth at the touch.  
  
Draco studied it for a few seconds, before realising that Harry’s eyes were open and staring at him.  
  
“Is this scar interesting?”  
  
“Harry! I didn’t mean to …”  
  
The Auror rolled over towards him.  
  
“I didn’t want to wake you up.”  
  
“Mh …” he muttered, running a finger on Draco’s pale chest. “You know, for years and years this scar was the only reason of fuss over me. You must remember.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“I have come to hate it. Which is kinda unexpected considering that, as a child, it was my favourite thing. I thought it gave me character,” he revealed with a smile. “Many have loved me just for this scar.”  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes, distracted by the circular movement of Harry’s finger slowly tracing the path between his legs. Then noticed his lover ’s eyes focused on the arm buried behind his back.  
  
_“No.”_  
  
But Harry didn’t listen. Once again he climbed on top of Draco and pushed his arms forward, holding them tightly. He bent down to examine the Dark Mark and Draco closed his eyes.  
  
As he felt Harry’s face coming closer and closer to his left arm, his tickling beard on his skin, he let out a breath.  
  
And then another and another.  
  
For long minutes he only felt his short breaths coming out, and Harry’s beard, fingers and eyes on him.  
  
The bedroom smelled of sweat and Draco thought about Scorpius’ smile in the photo, Harry’s leg flexed towards his abdomen, his sex.  
  
“It looks so different this close,” Harry said, at one point.  
  
Draco let out another breath and it felt warmer because Harry’s mouth was above his.  
  
“The Dark Mark,” he explained, loosening his hold on Draco’s arms, caressing gently his stiffened body.  
  
Draco opened his eyes.  
  
“How so?” he asked.  
  
“It looks like tiny red moles coming together to form a figure. But it doesn’t seem so menacing or terrible from that close. It just looks like something your skin does.”  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes again, this time to challenge, and held out his pointy Malfoy-ish chin.  
  
“That’s not my skin.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
When Harry thumbs brushed against his lips, Draco felt like he wanted out. So, so desperately. The thing with Harry … was just too much and he haven’t thought about the intensity. As always, he had done a great deal of calculation and it was all wrong.  
  
“Don’t kiss me just yet,” he asked, feeling the gentle pressing of Harry’s lips on the corner of his mouth. He turned his head. “Don’t kiss me.”  
  
“Look at me, Draco, please. Did you really think I wasn’t expecting to notice your mark?”  
  
Draco let out another breath and almost laughed at his own stupidity.  
  
“I don’t know what I though. I wasn’t thinking, to be honest with you.” And Harry did laugh and he himself felt a smile creeping on his features. “I wish you wouldn’t see it …”  
  
“But I do,” Harry replied, holding Draco’s face until he was staring back at him. “I do, and I want to. We know everything about each other’s past, there are no secrets. That’s good. You are Draco and I am Harry and we lived our lives. But you are Draco and I’m Harry and we’re here now. Don’t you want this?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then it’s settled, because I want you, entirely. I see you and I want you entirely.”  
  
Draco lifted his head enough to brush Harry’s lips with his own and sank back into the mattress as Harry opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.  
  
Soon they were frantic against one another. Harry’s hands wondering around, Draco legs moving on top of Harry’s back, drawing him close, pressing their growing erections together.  
  
Between hungry kisses, Harry felt his hair being pulled back and grinned proudly showing his lightning shaped scar. Draco had never been more in love with him than in that moment.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one lacks the Beta's touch. I hope it doesn't suck too much. Please, let me know what you think about the story and enjoy!

  
  
They started to play Quidditch again, on Saturday afternoons. Harry wasn’t merciful in the field just because he and Draco had became lovers and his ruthlessness intrigued the Slytherin, who definitely missed those matches to the last snitch.   
  
After the game they often showered together. Draco cursed Harry’s inexhaustible Gryffindorish stamina and kept remember him all the times in which they were almost surprised by other wizards. Nothing, however, served as a deterrent to their voracity.   
  
After the first month, Harry practically moved in Draco’s apartment. He had already confessed how much he hated Grimauld Place and everything connected to it and Draco didn’t mind a bit of the company when Scorpius wasn’t around. After years spent living as a single parent, he figured that he needed some time to adjust to the new companionship. The adaptation, though, proved to be less difficult than he expected. He even grown used to socks scattered everywhere and wrinkled shirts randomly stuffed in the drawers.   
  
Draco used to make breakfast and Harry dinner. They washed the dishes in turn and cleaned the apartment on the weekends.   
  
Draco’s favorite times were those lazy, lazy Sundays, when they were too tired to even put on clothes and used to cuddle under the covers of their bed. Kissing, teasing, talking.   
  
  
  
  
Draco opened his eyes and stretched lazily. In the depth of his sleep he had felt the familiar pressure of Harry’s hands on his hips and the tingling sensation of the beard on the hollow of his neck.   
  
He smiled, enjoying Harry’s noisy kisses from his left cheek ‘till the corner of his mouth. He turned to face him.   
  
“Keep in mind that we are no longer seventeen,” he muttered, a little hoarse.   
  
“Oh yes?” Harry grinned.   
  
Then pressed Draco against the mattress and licked his face while moving his hips in an animalistic way.   
  
“That’s coarse, Potter!”   
  
Harry fell back against the pillows, shaking with laughter, and even Draco couldn’t help himself. Once exhausted the hilarity, they returned to the kissing.   
  
“Why do you keep a Remembrall on your bedside table?” Harry asked, rubbing his face against his lover’s nose.   
  
“It’s a gift from Scorpius,” Draco explained, clinging to him.   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“When he was younger … His first day of primary school was approaching and he was so worried about me, staying at home all alone without him. So he asked Mother to take him shopping and brought me a Remembrall. He told me that every time I’d looked at it, I could remind myself that I was never alone. That he was there to love me.”   
  
“That’s really adorable.”   
  
“Yes. Scorpius was always a loveable child.”   
  
Harry leaned on his elbow, studying Draco with growing curiosity.   
  
“You’ve never told me about Scorpius’ mother …”   
  
“There was an agreement,” Draco explained. “Scorpius is not … After the end of war and the end of my Father’s imprisonment, we moved to France for a while.”   
  
“I remember.”   
  
“There we had an agreement with another Pureblood family who was exiled by the Wizengamot. They needed money and an excuse to stay out of prison, we needed an heir to unlock our founds at the Gringotts and restore our name,” Draco paused for a moment. “So we agreed to produce an heir. At first I was against it, but Father was ill and I … I’ve never been able to impose myself against his will. Scorpius was entrusted to us, because his maternal family was not able nor intended to care of him. Then we came back here.”   
  
Harry pressed his lips against the back of Draco’s neck and he smiled bitterly.   
  
“As you can see, another thing I’m not proud of.”   
  
Harry frowned.   
  
“Are you not proud of being a father?”   
  
“No … no! Scorpius was the best thing that ever happened to me! I’m not proud of choosing to have a son in my situation, just for economical and political reasons. It was a selfish act.”   
  
“I don’t see it that way. You haven’t abandoned your son and you worked hard to give him a happy childhood.”   
  
“I know, but I always think that maybe … if he had two loving parents … if he had a better, worthier father …”   
  
“Draco,” Harry whispered, brushing his lips against his check. “These are pointless scruples. He would have grown into a different man. Maybe. What matters is that you love him and he always felt that. Believe me, I know.”   
  
He did, didn’t he? Yet he never had the Pureblood education Draco had and he never ever could have done damages to a child, unlike Draco who was …   
  
“You’re thinking too much again,” Harry murmured against the shell of his ear. He was on top of him, a warm and welcome weight dissipating all his doubts.   
  
Draco closed his eyes and kissed the scar on Harry’s chest again and again, as a grateful prayer to a merciful god. Harry smiled.   
  
“See? All sorted out. I’ve never thought I would become the lighter one and you the thoughtful one.”   
  
“That’s because you always underestimate your proclivity to sulking.”   
  
“Shut it, Malfoy!”   
  
They giggled like schoolboys and basked in the comfort of their embrace for long moments. Then they heard the Floo activating.   
  
“Did you invite someone?”   
  
“Not to my knowledge, no,” Draco replied. “We should get dress.”   
  
They put on a pair of trousers and a shirt and went into the living room. Among the green flames, Harry recognized the silhouettes of the two upcoming boys.   
  
“Oh damn …”   
  
“Did you really think that I was so stupid, _dad_?” Asked an aggravated James Sirius Potter as he crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
  
  
  
Draco went into the kitchen to make tea. With his wand pointed to the wall, he kept listening the conversation between Harry and his boys.   
  
“Really, dad!”   
  
“Jamie, c’mon! You know that I would never think something like that of you!” Harry said, trying to justify himself.   
  
He turned to share a pitiful look with Teddy Lupin, staring at him and biting his lips awkwardly.   
  
“And you shut up!” James ordered, preventing the Hufflepuff from speaking. “I can’t believe that you and Albus knew and never said anything!”   
  
“It wasn’t like that … we just were told to …”   
  
“Keep a secret from me?” James interrupted. “So that’s the proof! You don’t trust me!”   
  
Harry let out a defeated sigh. He reached out for his eldest son and squeezed his shoulders gently.   
  
“Of course I trust you,” he replied.   
  
“Then why didn’t you tell me that you were … living with Mr. Malfoy. Also how could have even believed to be able pull this off, dad? Newsflash for you: not so sneaky as you think!”   
  
Harry smiled, holding his son’ shoulders.   
  
“I knew this was bound to happen … I just wanted to …”   
  
“Are you serious?” James asked, his brown eyes wide open. Harry felt a tinge of pain in his chest. “With Mr. Malfoy, I mean. Is this serious? Are you …”   
  
“Yes,” he confessed, very softly. Teddy was staring at him too. “Yes, it is. We never told anyone because it’s new for us too and we want to be careful, but I’m really fond of Scorpius’ father and I … like being with him.”   
  
Suddenly James looked down and Harry caressed his face.   
  
“I told your brothers because I know you don’t like to keep secrets, especially from Lily, and I didn’t want to put you in that position. But I trust you, Jamie. I’m sorry.”   
  
There was the tiniest ‘ _neverminddad_ ’ and Harry smiled harder, hugging his son tightly. Teddy jumped into the embrace and he felt his hair being ruffled until the violet became blue.   
  
“I’m so sorry, boys. I should have told you both, but …”   
  
“It’s okay, dad. Really. So … are you gonna stay at Mr. Malfoy tonight?”   
  
Harry nodded.   
  
“It’s a every night deal by now,” he admitted. “But I’m going to make it up to you.”   
  
  
  
  
When Harry entered the kitchen, Draco’s wand was already carefully posed on the table as he was drinking his cup of tea.   
  
“Teddy and Jamie say hi!” Harry began, robbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. He was nervous.   
  
“They didn’t want to stay.”   
  
“They had a match tonight and you know …”   
  
“I do,” he murmured, putting his cup aside. “So?”   
  
“So …” Harry started, approaching with great care. Draco definitely felt the need to prepare for a punch. “They know about us!”   
  
“Your children …”   
  
“Only the boys, with Lily we need to be more careful … I proposed them something. I want to know what you think about it.”   
  
“I’m all ears, as the Muggle say.”   
  
Harry smiled and kneeled next to him. Draco perceived such tender adoration in his eyes, it was almost painful.   
  
“I proposed a dinner. All of us. My children, your son. We’ll make an official announcement about … us. It doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want. We aren’t getting engaged or something! It’s just to tell them that we are together and we intend to stay this way for a long time, I hope.”   
  
Draco nodded quietly, his hands searching for Harry’s.   
  
“It won’t be easy but …”   
  
“You did well,” he just said.   
  
Harry brushed his nose against his knees and waited for long fingers to dive in his troublesome hair.   
  
Draco laughed.   
  
“You did very well, Harry Potter.”   
  
  



	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's a new chapter of the story.
> 
> I wanted to change the title, tho? Because I always steal my titles from songs (LOL) and now I finally guessed a proper title for the story, but I think that will be confusing and unsettling for those who are reading so I figured out it would be a bad idea. But does this changing title thing ever happen anyway? 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think about the story. (Is this too boring/predictable? I hope I can give a personal twist to it)

  
  
  
The Wizarding Wireless Network was airing an old Beatles song about love and endless waiting. During the Christmas celebrations, “Morning Sensation” had decided to cheer the audience with an overview of the most popular Muggle songs, ranking them according to the audience’s taste, and then prolong the listening hours until the late evening.   
  
They were even furious debates among those who claimed the true wizarding nature of George Harrison and his band mates – with lots of detailed testimonies offered live – and sceptics, who just wanted to enjoy the music program without controversies.   
  
Draco Malfoy would wanted so bad to get lost in such nonsense. Unfortunately for him, the reality was quite different.   
  
“Are the decorations still falling from the walls?” Harry asked, emerging from the kitchen with a greasy apron and oven mitts.   
  
Draco sighed, defeated. Determined to stay away from that hellish place, he assigned to himself the task of decorating the dining room and, for some absurd reason, his magic didn’t seem to work properly. He had even flunked elementary spells like “Accio” and “Reparo”, just like a novice struggling with OWLs.   
  
“It’s because you’re too tense,” Harry chuckled, decorating the room with a single movement of the wand and placing a gentle kiss on his lover’s shoulder. “I’m gonna help you with that … later.”   
  
He felt Draco holding his breath. His lover was wearing a gorgeous black suit and had collected his hair in a very close bun. Harry often wondered why he never kept it loose, but then he felt a strange pleasure in knowing that only he was allowed to stroke and kiss Malfoy’s golden locks.   
  
“Mind my suit,”   
  
“I am,”   
  
“Are you planning to put on something decent, for a change?”   
  
“When I’m done with the roast,” Harry laughed, making Draco turn to him. “It’ll be okay,” he promised, kissing him with conviction.   
  
Draco sighed again on his lips.   
  
“I just wish Scorpius was here …” he confessed in a low voice.   
  
The dinner had been planned for decades. After a series of mishaps and proposal on the possible date, Harry and Draco had finally agreed on the next evening after the suspension of the Hogwarts classes, to allow their younger children to be present. Scorpius, however, had to stay at Hogwarts one more day, for his duties as Ravenclaw prefect, and Draco wouldn’t wanted to protest. After all, Scorpius’ successes could only make him proud.   
  
“I know, darling,” Harry muttered, fiddling with his fingers. “But you’ll see him soon and you’re going to talk to him and explain everything.”   
  
Draco nodded and leaned forward to steal one last kiss before the Floo connection activated.   
  
“Get in there and take off that awful apron! I’ll take care of the kids,” he ordered, heading to the living room.   
  
The first to arrive were Albus Potter and Teddy Lupin, who also brought a bottle of elven wine, as a perfect gentlemen. Draco greeted them warmly, showing them to the dining room.   
  
Not that it was such a difficult enterprise, given the modest size of his apartment, but he was still a Malfoy and he was still holding towards a certain standard.   
  
Teddy Lupin, his cousin, was sporting his hair long on the sides, purple and blue. Albus Potter, Slytherin prefect, was the exact copy of his father at his age. Only the paleness of his skin and the absence of the famous lightning bolt-shaped scar made him distinguishable.   
  
Draco felt a strange uneasiness while escorting him into his apartment. He could almost feel like being with a Harry came from an alternate universe. A Harry who had been sorted into Slytherin despite his dislike of the House; a Harry who, perhaps, had accepted Draco’s childish friendship request right from the start and had shared his own dormitory, resting a few steps away from his bed. A Harry who maybe, maybe, had saved him from committing all the stupid errors that would have branded him for life.   
  
What would have become of him if Harry had been different … Draco didn’t know it. And there was no reason to torture himself with doubts and hypotheses about an immutable past. Draco had learned this very well.   
  
“Please, sit down,” he said, handing chairs to his guests. “The starters are already here, if you are just too hungry to wait for the others.”   
  
“Boys!” Harry greeted, Apparating with an almost dignifying green sweater. “Al, Teddy!"   
  
“Dad!”  
  
The boys were squeezed in a vigorous hug. Albus, in particular, had to endure the torture of the hair messing just because his father missed him too much at Hogwarts.   
  
“I believe that James and Lily are coming. We left them at Grimmauld, you know how Lily gets when …”   
  
Harry clenched his jaw, then nodded and smiled.   
  
“We’ll wait for them. I’m really glad to see you two!” He said, stealing a second hug.   
  
Behind him, Draco’s smile softened.   
  
The Floo connection was activated. James appeared at first and then, with an imperious gesture, he dragged his sister Lily Luna over the green flames. She was petite, graceful. Her long red hair was tied in a messy braid and her oval face was dotted with freckles up to her ears. A Weasley through and through, she even had the audacity to wear her red Quidditch jersey for the occasion. _LL Potter, beater._   
  
Draco felt the immediacy of the danger approaching.   
  
  
  
  
They sat at the table. Harry and Draco at the ends, surrounded by the kids. They had already ate the potato gratin and the baked carrots, and were consuming the roast that Harry had prepared during the afternoon.   
  
“So, Mr. Malfoy, why Scorpius isn’t with us?” Albus asked, putting on his plate a generous portion of lettuce salad.   
  
That such clever, well-mannered and Slytherin boy was half Weasley was unthinkable. Of course, he wouldn’t have said something like that in Harry’s presence. Never, ever.   
  
“Perfect duties. Flitwick asked him to stay at Hogwarts one more day, to complete an experiment. Scorpius was very flattered.”   
  
“I see. I’m sorry that there isn’t a lot of collaboration between the Houses. I always liked Scorpius. I think we would have done great things in common projects.”   
  
“I’m sure of that.”   
  
“So … there should be more collaboration between the Houses?” Lily Luna asked, placing his fork on top on untouched carrots. She hadn’t utter a syllable during the entire dinner.   
  
Her brother frowned.   
  
“Well … yes? Don’t you think we could make better results if we Slytherins could help you with – I don’t even know – Potions and you guys would gave us tips about spells that require more strength and physical energy?”   
  
“Jamie and Teddy used to collaborate a lot during their first year, if I remember correctly …”   
  
The older boys exchanged a quick look of understanding and giggled in their sleeve.   
  
“There is a reason why the Founders have decided to divide the school into four Houses. They put on some limits, you know? Because they understood the true nature behind individuals. They guessed out the patterns in people’s behaviour. And maybe the limits are really useful, because we need to separate ourselves from certain people, in certain circumstances …”   
  
Draco sliced his roast and hid a bitter smile.   
  
“What do you mean, Lils?”   
  
“Well. The Houses are natural limits, in fact.”   
  
“A fine Slytherin speech.”   
  
Lily Luna curled her lips into an angry grimace.   
  
“What’s so Slytherin about that?” she asked.   
  
Albus waved his hand.   
  
“You just talked about tradition, limits, Founders …”   
  
“And that’s Slytherin to you?”   
  
James immediately put his hand over his sister’s arm to stop her.   
  
“Lils, this isn’t the time,” he warned softly.   
  
His sister gave him a glare but didn’t add a thing.   
  
“It’s really nice,” Draco began, determined to avoid the danger, “that you young students want to change things, that you have an open mind about conventions. Scorpius always repeats the same things.”   
  
“Scorpius should know something about Slytherin hate, since he’s the only Malfoy who ran away from his family house like crazy …”   
  
“Enough, Lily!” Harry commanded, controlling the anger in his peremptory tone. “Stop immediately!”   
  
“Why should I?” She cried out, standing on her feet. “You’re all here making small talk, forgetting who this guy is and what he did to us and to so many innocent people!”   
  
“No one has forgotten anything.”   
  
“You, Dad! _You have forgotten everything!_ How can you do this? How could you betray your morals this way? What Malfoy did do to change your mind like this?”   
  
“Draco didn’t do anything. I’m sure you realise how much I …”   
  
“Remember what Mom used to say about Malfoys? What happened to her when she was only a child? Lucius Malfoy almost killed her and this guy is his son and you’ve forgotten everything! All the things!”   
  
“ENOUGH!”   
  
Harry shouted this time. He was standing now and his sons were staring at him, silent and pale.   
  
“Not another word, Lily! You’re insulting our guest and you are offending me.”   
  
“Good! Perhaps my insults will help you find a little common sense, because all this is disgusting, Dad! And I won’t stay here any longer.”   
  
Harry stood frozen as he watched his daughter run towards the Floo. James was immediately behind her and then Teddy. Albus stayed at his father’s side.   
  
The danger Draco felt from the first time he had allowed Harry Potter to drag him into this madness was beginning to take shape before his eyes.   



	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Yours truly is a bit under the weather and back again with another chapter of this story, which is turning out to be longer than I've originally planned. I hope it's not a problem for the readers and for the hp_goldenage bathilda bagshot's bingo challenge. (Go on LJ and see the table and prompts and the awesome community!)
> 
> I may end up using some prompts again, because I need to explain some stuff before ending the story. We are kinda in the middle, I think. Also sorry for the waiting, but time is a tyrant and RL gets in the way and so on.
> 
> Hope you like the chapter and feel free to comment. Did I made Harry Potter too much of the typical middle age dad? (It's all the Epilogue's fault!)
> 
> Thanks to beta tavia_d

  
  
Lily Luna didn’t go very far. She decided to hole up in the bathroom with her acolytes. Occasionally Draco could hear her angry shouts and Teddy and James’ hushed invitations to calm down.   
  
Harry and Albus had remained in the dining room. They were also engaged in a heated argument.   
  
“I don’t understand why she behaves like this! She’s always been so … listen to her! She’s still screaming at your brothers! I’m gonna go there and settle this thing once and for all. I’m gonna go! I’m gonna …”   
  
“Dad,” Albus interrupted him, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I think it’s better to leave it to Teddy and James. They know how to handle Lily …”   
  
“I’m her father. I should know too, shouldn’t I?”   
  
Albus let out a shaky breath and shrugged.   
  
“I need to calm down, right?” Harry asked. “I have to give her some space …”   
  
“I guess it’s better, at least at this stage.”   
  
And, thanks to Salazar, at least one of the Potter progeny had grown up with a little common sense. Draco raised his eyebrows and began to clear the table, setting aside leftover food and piling dishes and cutlery to wash, while Harry was busy muttering in the background.   
  
In that moment Kingsley Shacklebolt’s silver lynx appeared.   
  
  
  
In the kitchen, Draco floated the dirty dishes into the sink and, with a flick of his wand, he mixed the water with the detergent. While the dishes were getting clean, Draco opened the refrigerator and put away the untouched dessert.   
  
It was a white chocolate mousse with cinnamon, coffee and red fruits on top, Draco’s favourite. Harry was planning to surprise him with his favourite dessert. It would have been nice to be able to eat it with him, in the warmth of a silent and serene home.   
  
Draco heard the bathroom door slam, the boys’ voices and Harry’s muffled curses. Then the Floo activated, an unreal silence followed. He set aside the mousse and checked the drying dishes. He rolled up his sleeves prepared to wipe the glasses by hand. He had experienced the ineffectiveness of every cleaning spell when it came to crystal.   
  
The kitchen door opened. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Harry and he was about to say goodbye.  
  
He still did it anyway.  
  
“So,” he began, but the words died in his throat as he saw Harry flushed with rage. Even his hair was more terrible than usual. That was almost funny.   
  
“Shacklebolt sent me a message with his Patronus!” Harry howled, not even trying to adjust the tone of voice.  
  
He was fuming, literally.  
  
“I saw. Are the kids still here?”   
  
“Lily and James just went out, Teddy and Al are in the … didn’t you hear what I just said? Shacklebolt sent his Patronus!”   
  
Draco shrugged. He waved his wand and ended the dishes drying operations.   
  
“He lectured me!” Harry explained, without being asked. “He said it’s not recommendable for an Auror who aspires to the promotion or … wait, what were his exact words? Something like being inadvisable and bullshit like that. Shacklebolt, can you believe it? He’s not an arse, at least not when it comes to stuff like this! Oh, but I think there’s Percy’s handiwork behind this one and perhaps even your little friend Zabini. He’s the new head of public relations, did you know? And now, because of them, I have to hear this crap. At my age!”   
  
“I figured that even a Gryffindor was able to consult a dictionary for a proper communication, but you do need our competence. I grant that.”   
  
“Draco, what the fuck?!”   
  
Harry screamed and Draco closed his eyes, letting himself lean against the counter.   
  
“They just gave me an ultimatum! They said it wasn’t advisable for someone who wanted to be the Head of the Auror department to engage in an intimate relationship with someone who was … who was …”   
  
“I can imagine.”   
  
Harry growled, putting a nervous hand over his forehead, in his hair, struggling with his green sweater. It was suddenly too hot for him.   
  
“After all I did for them, for the department! They are denying me the only thing I’ve ever … the only thing … I’ve never asked for anything.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“I just wanted to have this and the promotion. I did my best to deserve it and I believed that … this is so unfair!”   
  
“Oh Harry, still such a hopeless Gryffindor ...”   
  
“Don’t joke about this! Don’t you understand what they are asking me? Can you really be all sneer and sarcasm while they are asking me to …”   
  
Draco rolled down his sleeves and casually looked at the mark on his arm. A pale imitation of a smile curved his lips.   
  
“And your daughter?” he asked. “Have you talked to her?”   
  
Harry shook his head. He took his glasses off and put them on the table as he sat.   
  
“Lily said that she won’t talk to me or see me while I stay here.”   
  
“ _Oh_. It’s settled then.”   
  
Harry glared at him and his eyes seemed ever more green than usual. For a moment he looked like he wanted to attack somebody, like a lion in a cage, slowly circling the ground, looking at his prey, clenching his jaw. But then a breath escaped from his lips and suddenly he seemed exhausted.   
  
“I’m going to put your uniform away,” Draco muttered, forcing himself to keep a steady tone. “You won’t have it back until tomorrow but Mother’s elves are the best when it comes to cleaning old robes and they will do an excellent job on yours. You need to take care of your public image. You’ve never understood the importance of it, but I assure you that people notice. People notice all the time and if you really desire that Head Auror position, you need to concentrate your resources and abilities in making them see what they want to see …”   
  
“Draco …”   
  
“I, for one, can’t say that I’m shocked. Really. I didn’t expect anything different. I’ve always knew that this … this moment between us couldn’t last. But you kissed me on that bench and I let myself … Well, you have great persuasion skills, Harry Potter. Eventually, though, every dream must end.”   
  
After his speech, a sob broke the silence in the kitchen and Draco wondered if that was him. He did feel like crying. But it was Harry, curled on the chair, both hands covering his reddened face as the sobs and sighs broke from his chest.   
  
“Harry …”   
  
_“But we love each other!_ We do!” he exclaimed pointlessly.   
  
Draco came closer.   
  
_“Do we?”_  
  
“I don’t know what to do … I don’t want …”   
  
It was a boyish cry, ugly and uncontrolled and desperate.   
  
Draco kneeled before Harry and touched his chest and arms. He felt the amazing, amazing warmth of him.   
  
“Fuck, Draco! What should I do?”   
  
Harry grabbed him instantly, stealing his chance to move away. His whole body was shacking and his grip was tight and strong.   
  
“Don’t cry … please, Harry … don’t cry …”   
  
They were such vain words that Draco felt compelled to say to calm down his beloved. Yet, seeing Harry crying like that – _for him_ – filled his heart with a bittersweet, sinful joy.   
  
He buried his nose into Harry’s neck and breathed quickly, trying to impress his lover’s scent in his memory. As he felt Harry’s tears falling on his cheeks, into his hair, somehow he couldn’t help but rejoice. At last, tears were shed for him by a lover. Even if he didn’t deserve it, he was loved. And Harry Potter, _Harry_ , was loving him.   
  
“Harry …” he sighed, pressing his lips against a wild dark beard.   
  
The door opened.   
  
“Dad, we’re going.”   
  
“Coming.”   
  
Harry pushed Draco away and got up in an instant. He wiped his face with his sweater and grabbed his glasses. He followed his boys without a word. Draco closed his eyes, still kneeled on the stone floor of his kitchen, hands trembling.   
  



	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I must remember the readers that this story is written for the Bathilda Bagshot's Bingo at hp_goldenage, so I had to raise Draco and Harry's age (50, by the community rules) Anyway, this story follows the Epilogue as faithfully as I can.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter and I'm curious to know your impressions.

  
  
Scorpius came home two days later. The experiments with Flitwick had reduced his uniform to shreds, so Draco had him take it off in the living room and made an appointment with Madam Malkin for a new one. Then he embraced his son, for a long moment, and headed into the kitchen to prepare him some tea.   
  
Scorpius followed in silence, speechless with amazement.   
  
“We have white chocolate mousse in the fridge. I’ve kept it for you and your friends, although I’m not entirely convinced of young Lovegood’s good tastes,” Draco muttered, wandering in his small modern kitchen, equipped with every Muggle  contraption. “Sit down, I’ll make some tea,” he said, putting the water to boil with a wave of his wand.   
  
Scorpius didn’t try to resist. He took his usually accustomed stool and sat at the black table in front of the stove, waiting for the mousse to gently settle before him. There were six cups, perfectly intact.   
  
“Red fruits and coffee … that’s your favourite.”   
  
“Yes. Like I said, there’s enough for you and your friends if you want to …”   
  
“Father,” the boy interrupted, his voice was still soft but the tone was peremptory. Draco had to turn around to face him. “How do you feel? You could have called me that night … you could have called me sooner.”   
  
“And have you leaving Hogwarts in a hurry? Don’t be silly, Scorpius. You had your project to complete and I’m sure that Professor Flitwick will be impressed with your good sense and your willingness to learn. I’m very excited with your experiments myself. What did you say they were all about? And if you wanted to stay at Hogwarts for all the duration of the holiday season …”   
  
_“Dad, please!_ Please.”   
  
Draco fell silent. He poured hot tea in a cup and offered it to his son, sitting down in front of him. A pale hand closed around his wrist, strong but gentle.   
  
“You taught me that, don’t you remember? We are a family, we take care of each other. It’s only us that matter.”   
  
Draco smiled and squeezed his son’s hand. Scorpius’ eyes were wide with emotions and his job as a father was to comfort him.   
  
“How are you now? Mr Potter … is he really gone away? Why didn’t you stop him?”   
  
“Mr Potter is back at Grimauld Place, yes. He left some things here, but I believe he will get them in time. Nothing has been decided yet, but ... there are objective difficulties that we should have considered more carefully. Also Mr Potter has … problems communicating with his daughter and you need to understand that these problems are much more important than anything else at the moment. He’ll try to talk to her and explain his reasons, but … Lily Luna doesn’t seem very inclined to indulge his father and she’s a priority for him, as it should be. As you are for me.”   
  
Scorpius grimaced in disgust.   
  
“There is no use in getting angry, darling.”   
  
“But that seems such a huge bullshit!”   
  
“Scorpius!”   
  
The boy let out a frustrated sigh and gulped down two spoonfuls of mousse, before finding the right words to discuss with his father without pissing him off too much.   
  
“Lily Luna has always been like that,” he said flatly. “Ever since she came at Hogwarts. I remember it because she was barely a first year student and she was already making a mess of all things! This story has nothing to do with you and her father and it seems to me very selfish to put you in the middle of her problems. Furthermore, I know that her mother, Ginny Weasley, stayed with another man for years and she was fine with that. Ask her if she reacted like she did the other evening with you!”   
  
Draco raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Impressive. Even you almighty Ravenclaw brains are interested in gossip.”   
  
“Ugh! Don’t joke now!” Scorpius chided, rolling his eyes. For a moment, his frustration for his father’s amused grin was able to erase all the worry. “I’m being serious here! It’s not about you and Potter! Not at all! This is something she always does. Why did Harry Potter had to go away?”   
  
“Because she’s his daughter and he needs to talk to her and …”   
  
“Did the Ministry sent a Patronus?”   
  
Draco just nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat that would have prevented him from speaking with dignity.   
  
“You can also eat a second one, if you like. They are tiny,” he muttered after a while indicating the mousse cups, when he felt sure of his voice.   
  
“Don’t you want one? They are your favourite, after all …”   
  
“I’m not hungry.”   
  
They fell silent once more. Scorpius attacked the second mousse in a rush, but after a few spoonfuls he dropped his spoon and looked at his father.   
  
“I’m so sorry for you,” he declared.   
  
“Son, you don’t have to …”   
  
“I’m sorry. You’ve never granted yourself something like this. To be happy with someone, I mean. The few people you went out with … you’ve never brought them here or introduced them to grandmother and grandfather. For years I thought you were really cut out for a solitary life.”   
  
“Maybe I am.”   
  
“No. That’s a lie and you know it! You’re not up for a lonely life and I can tell by the way you look at people when you see them walking hand in hand in the streets or by the way you talk about grandma Narcissa and grandfather Lucius sitting together in the gardens. I can tell by the way you looked at Harry Potter. You are really in love with him, right?”   
  
“I don’t consider this an appropriate topic of conversation between a father and a son!” Draco snapped, hiding the blush that those words caused him.   
  
“You’re the only parent I have! I can talk to you frankly, can’t I?”   
  
“Of course you can.”   
  
“So why don’t you tell me: _how are you?”_   
  
Draco let his gaze wander between the kitchen furniture and the walls. He took a deep breath and tried to wear a reassuring smile.   
  
“I’ll be fine,” he said, at last. “Not now of course, but soon. Life doesn’t stop and neither will I. I’ll be back to my normal routine.”   
  
“But does it hurt? Losing someone you love, I mean.”   
  
“Yes,” he confessed. “Yes, it hurts. A lot. But this hurt won’t last. All pain passes, you only need time.”   
  
Scorpius had tears in his eyes and he looked so young, so innocent. _His son_.   
  
“Time makes you forget about the pain and everything … regains focus. I won’t deny that, for a moment, I nurtured a secret hope that between me and Harry could work, but it didn’t and I won’t fall on the ground and cry all my tears because of that. I have responsibilities, a job … I’ve got you.”   
  
Despite the firmness in his voice and the well-reasoned speech – balanced and very wise, in Draco's opinion – the anxieties filling Scorpius’ eyes stood there, like a shadows in the sky. Yet his son’s stare was open wide, large and deep as that of an ancient seer.   
  
“Father, I can’t be everything to you.”   
  
“You can’t be everything? What does that even mean? You’re my family, my son. You’re the only thing that matters in this wrenched world and the love of a parent for his child …”   
  
“Yes. Yes, I know that! I know! I just mean … you’re also a man. You have needs.”   
  
“Please, Scorpius, I beg you. If you’re about to allude to sexual intercourse …”   
  
“No, no!” Scorpius exclaimed, without holding back a horrified glare. “And thanks for the mental image, by the way!”   
  
“You started it.”   
  
“All right! What I just mean is that even you deserve to fall in love.”   
  
Draco rubbed his cold hands and adjusted his wristbands, embarrassed.   
  
“You didn’t even put a fight for Harry and that’s so unfair and alarming, quite frankly! You’ve kept making yourself guilty for what had happened when you were at Hogwarts and there was the war going on …”   
  
“Scorpius, you can’t even imagine what that was …”   
  
“I know! I know I can’t imagine! I’m only saying that it’s been years and you’re a good person and a good father!”   
  
“I’m glad you think so, really.”   
  
“But you’re so repressed,” Scorpius continued, mercilessly.   
  
Draco swallowed, stunned with grief for that statement.   
  
“I love you so much. And I know how tender you can be, how loving … it’s just that you also seem to be someone who is very capable of compartmentalising his life and his emotions, and always has done. You shut down your desires, your hopes and dreams and … even the ability to fall in love with someone. You never fall in love.”   
  
“I …”   
  
“And the thing is: I don’t believe you’re fine with that. I don’t believe celibate life is the thing for you or something you really want. There would be nothing wrong with that, of course, but you don’t want it! You want romantic love and you feel like you can’t have it. So you suppress virtually all that side of yourself. You put your feelings in a box and you forget about it.”   
  
“Scorpius …”   
  
The pain of those words was like a spear planted in his sternum and Draco couldn’t find the strength to breath for a decent reply.   
  
“Sometimes …. Sometimes I even fear that you will do the same to me or to grandmother! Sometimes I fear that all these barriers, all these limits you’ve created with so much effort, will become walls between you and the people who love you the most.”   
  
“That will never gonna happen!” Draco yelled, beating a hand against the table. “I could never! How … how can you say such a thing? You’re the only one I have!”   
  
“And that doesn’t seem unfair to you?” Scorpius taunted. “Don’t you feel your heart breaking into pieces?”   
  
Draco closed his eyes, speechless. He ran a hand through his slicked back hair, on his stubbly cheeks. He shook his head.   
  
“I can’t do otherwise,” he confessed in a low voice, holding Scorpius’ hand again. “I can’t do otherwise.”   
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super quick update! (Although I can't promise to always be that quick. Sorry!)

  
In the afternoon, Scorpius was heading to the countryside to meet the Lovegoods. Draco patted his shoulders and urged him to go and have fun. His father was going to be alright. After all, he had much work to do and many things to fix before sleep.   
  
After cleaning the living room and the kitchen as best as he could, Draco decided to get back to his shop. Two days of lethargy were more than enough to elaborate a sentimental grief and it was necessary to make room for the potions scheduled to arrive in the next few days.   
  
  
  
On the occasion of New Year celebrations, Draco used to spend a couple of days for inventory and cataloguing the new arrivals. January first was, as always, the best day to sell new potions, to those who wanted to start an ambitious project or simply propitiate the new yearly cycle. Severus’ portrait, kept at the Manor, never missed the opportunity to rail against the new generations’ stupidity, their completely obliviousness of traditions and dates to celebrate.   
  
His godfather’s ramblings never ceased to amuse Scorpius who, as a child, used to clap, laugh and list the costumers’ habits to purposefully irritate the portrait. Draco himself couldn’t stop a good laughter.   
  
Over the time, Scorpius’ interest became more specific and his childish laughter was replaced by a number of questions on symbolic dates and periods of the year. However his father didn’t cease to subtly provoke the portrait.   
  
That afternoon Severus’ competence in the cataloguing potions was much missed by Draco. The flasks with the newly tested compounds looked anonymous and their labels incredibly confusing.   
  
With a little patience, Draco sat in a back room of his store and tried to make a list of things we could have safely displayed on January first. For the other potions there was time.   
  
His work was interrupted by an insistent knocking at the door.   
  
“Coming!” He exclaimed, giving up lists and bottles.   
  
It was Harry, in uniform.   
  
“You keep ignoring me! You’re not answering my owls! What’s going on, Draco?” he asked all at once, panting.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes, pointing at his chair in the back of the room.   
  
“Please, be my guest,” he said slowly. “Or do you want to attract more attention? Maybe in the shop next door they didn’t hear you.”   
  
Harry muttered a curse and came in.   
  
His flaming Auror jacket was wet with rain. The git haven’t even learned how to make a decent Impervius spell for the cold working nights and the contact with the warm room made him shiver.   
  
“You’ll get sick, if you keep going on like this. Rough day?” Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.   
  
Harry spun around and gave him a fierce look.   
  
“I’ve sent you a dozen owls. You could have answered just once! Why are you ignoring me?”   
  
“I didn’t think there was anything else to add.”   
  
“Anything else to add? How do you think we can solve Lily’s problem and the Ministry being a bitch if we don’t communicate?”   
  
Draco raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Because communication is the key to everything, is it not? I thought there was nothing to be solved … I thought you had made your decision.”   
  
“I went away because Lily … she needed that at the moment! And I want to help her in every way I can. But I’m not leaving you, Draco. I don’t want to leave you. I promised, remember? That I wouldn’t hurt you, that I knew what I was doing … Well, not so much apparently! But I won’t go back and I don’t intend to break my promise.”   
  
“Your nobility moves me, Potter.”   
  
Harry clenched his jaw and twisted his face, red with cold and anger.   
  
“I really meant what I said the other night. What I feel for you.”   
  
Suddenly the storage room seemed smaller than usual and all the damn shelves deprived Draco of air. He reached the corner of new arrivals and grimaced, looking at some Amortentia samples. Why do people even wanted to know about their desires so bad? Didn’t they understand the blessing of ignorance? Of quiet and peace?   
  
Harry’s hands grabbed him by the hips and his face fell in place in the crook of Draco’s shoulder blades, as a perfect piece in a composition. Both sighed at unison. Harry pressed his lips against his lover’s immaculate robe and tightened his grip.   
  
“I can’t sleep without you,” he confessed. “It’s weird, right? We slept together for such a short time … for years we slept alone or with other people and yet… Is this painful for you too? Is this beautiful for you too?” he asked, clenching his hands on Draco ’s stomach like a desperate man.  
  
Draco remained very still.   
  
“This could be bad, if we are not careful. You have a career and a family. We need to be careful …” he forced himself to say.   
  
“Fuck being careful! I need you so much ... I feel like I ’m losing all my breath. ”   
  
Something inside Draco stirred.  
  
Maybe he was truly repressed, as Scorpius told him. This feeling growing in his chest was new and so terrible and Draco ... Draco was also weak, quite unable to resist the prayers of the man he had wanted all along. He turned around.   
  
“Forgive me for leaving,” Harry muttered, kissing his Adam’s apple. “Forgive me, love.”   
  
Draco closed his eyes, letting himself drown in bliss for a moment.   
  
“The Ministry,” he whispered, fighting for composure. “What are you going to do about it?”   
  
“I’m not going to do anything. If they don’t stop being pricks, I’ll resign my position.”   
  
“Harry, you can’t be serious …”   
  
“Can’t I? I have given my life for the Wizarding World, literally. I want to be happy now!”   
  
“There’s still Lily. She’s your daughter and if she’s not happy, we certainly won’t be.”   
  
“We’ll find a solution. I don’t know how, but we will find one. I’ll talk to Ginny, I’ll ask her to … fuck! We even waited for her to go to Hogwarts!”   
  
“What?”   
  
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in Draco’s arms.   
  
“Me and Ginny … we were basically done when the kids were little, but we thought that it was unfair to break their hearts and we stayed together for their sake. We promised: _when Lily is old enough to go to Hogwarts.”_   
  
“You will divorce just then.”   
  
“Yes. She always was so fiercely enthusiast of her family. I thought that her being at Hogwarts would have helped. After all, she was going to stay there, away from us …”   
  
“And you did it. You divorced during Lily’s first year.”   
  
Harry looked at Draco.   
  
“It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? I should have planned this thing better … I screwed up … Ginny was already seeing another man and we just wanted to …” he smiled bitterly. “See?” he said. “Not the only selfish one.”   
  
Draco kissed him deeply.   
  
“Do you think she’s still angry about the divorce?”   
  
“I can’t imagine anything else! She’s not bad, Draco. She’s not …”   
  
“I know. Just … talk to Ginevra and take care of your daughter and then … I will be here and we will discuss our situation.”   
  
“You promise?”   
  
“I promise,” Draco smiled, caressing Harry’s tired face. He had circles under his eyes and looked so vulnerable. “Take care of yourself,” he added, saying goodbye with a last kiss.   
  
Harry closed his eyes and took a step back, before Disapparating. Draco sat down between potions. And there was the knocking again. He laughed.   
  
“You can Apparate inside, you know!” he said opening the door.   
  
But it wasn’t Harry this time.   
  
James Sirius and Albus Severus were shivering in the street outside, their eyes huge with fear.   
  
  


  



	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. I hope to read your comments (And I hope I can find the time to write another chapter very soon!)
> 
> I must remember the readers that this story was written for the Bathilda Bagshot's Bingo at hp_goldenage, where you can find the table. I was aiming for a brief story but it turns out that NOPE, LOL. It must be a long fic.
> 
> In this chapter we learn a little more about Lily Luna's motivations. I hope you like it!

  
  
“What are you even saying? Harry has just came at the apothecary! We greeted each other a minute ago … we were just there, together … a minute ago.”   
  
Draco was struggling to keep up with the young Potters who were running and surpassing the staff in the corridors of St. Mungo’s.   
  
James Sirius and Albus Severus had Apparated in front of his shop a few minutes after Harry Disapparated. Confusingly enough they had told him about the accident occurred to their father, the curse that had hit him as he was about to purge an old haunted house. Draco frowned in disbelief, but as he requested further explanations, James grabbed him by the arm and begged him to follow them at the hospital. Apparently Harry was in grave danger.   
  
“It’s a new spell! Aunt Hermione created it!” Albus explained, breathless. “It uses the same magic behind the Time Turner, but in a different way. The Aurors … they use it when the missions are very dangerous and ancient spirits are involved …”   
  
“Time Turner? Did Harry use a Time Turner?”   
  
“Before going on his mission, I believe.”   
  
James’ trainers let out a shrill sound, as the boy suddenly stopped at the entrance of the Spell Damage Unit, on St Mungo’s fourth floor. In front of a huge locked door, a handful of Aurors were gathered. One of them had a large bandage around his face and blood stains on his jacket. Draco froze.   
  
“Dad …”   
  
The ginger head of Ron Weasley emerged from the group and James Sirius was dragged into a firm hug.   
  
“Uncle Ron … how’s dad?” Albus croaked, holding back his tears.   
  
Weasley waved his hand at him, drawing him into the embrace.   
  
“Your father is in good hands,” he murmured, stroking the boys’ backs. “The best healers are now taking care of him. You’ll see that everything will be fine … everything will be just fine …”   
  
Pale and still, Draco was watching the scene from another dimension. The voices of the Potters boys and Weasley came muffled into his ears and there was a strange buzz in the background, a vibration that seemed to fill his brain. Unexpectedly his memory flew back to a summer afternoon in the Manor gardens: a book resting on the metal table, the steaming tea although it was very hot and his father’s cane close to a consumed blanket …   
  
“Malfoy!” Weasley called, freeing himself from his nephews’ embrace. “Are you okay? Harry … nothing will happen to him. The healers won’t allow it.”   
  
“Of course …”   
  
“Why don’t you sit with us while we wait?” Weasley asked, stepping towards him with extreme carefulness.   
  
Draco couldn’t ponder on the reasons for this unusual kindness. His mind had ceased to operate at full capacity once he reached the fourth floor.   
  
“Sit here, with us,” Weasley offered, pointing to the corner chairs. “We’ll wait until the healers are done and then we’re gonna ask about Harry. It won’t take much time … I hope.”   
  
“Yes,” Draco replied without thinking. Lucidity seemed to return once he sat on the chair. “What happened to him? The boys told me about a mission and …”   
  
“He was hit. A very quick curse that he failed to parry. A banshee wounded him on his side and he was curled up in a corner waiting for backup, when from the right end of the room …”   
  
“Not another word. Where did they hit him?”   
  
“On the head.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
Draco let out a sigh and sat up straight on the uncomfortable seat.   
  
“He wanted you to know … before going on with the mission. He told me that he needed to see you. He wants to work things out with you, because he really …”   
  
Weasley had no way to conclude his confuse gasping that a tiny, nervous figure emerged from the side entrance. Relentless like a blood thirsty Fury, Lily Luna arrived in front of Draco and pointed an accusing finger at him.   
  
_“YOU!”_ she shouted. _“It’s your fault!”_   
  
“LILY NO!”   
  
Draco saw a shining wand and then James Sirius’ strong arms enveloped around his sister’s body.   
  
“Let me go, James! It’s all his fault! Let me go!”   
  
“That’s not true!”   
  
“Let go of me!”   
  
A couple of Aurors felt obliged to intervene. Ron Weasley sent them away, scratching his head with embarrassment.   
  
“Dad was never hit in the head! He must have been distracted and that’s all because of this bloody Slytherin!”   
  
“Stop it! Stop it!” Albus Severus yelled, stamping his feet on the floor as a warning. “Stop doing that! Stop screaming! I can’t stand you anymore! I can’t stand you anymore!”   
  
Ron stepped between the nephews and tried to reason with them.   
  
“That’s nobody’s fault. It was an accident and, although your father has more experience than any other Auror, he’s still just a wizard. Lily, please! Your father would be sorry to see you behaving like this! Please, give me the wand and stop yelling at Malfoy.”   
  
The little Potter’s eyes were filling with tears. With her lips turned into a bitter grimace, Lily Luna handed the wand to her uncle and shoved away her oldest brother.   
  
“I don’t need you!” she growled. “I don’t need any of you! Draco Malfoy is bad for dad and this incident has just proved it. I don’t need your approval to know that I’m right!”   
  
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Draco was faster. With great composure he stood up and buttoned his black velvet jacket. He closed his eyes and he offered a grateful smile to James Sirius and Albus Severus, who had the courtesy to call him. He went towards the exit.   
  
“Wait! Dad would like to see you, after he wakes up!”   
  
“Probably.  I would also like to see him, very much. But my presence would cause additional stress and embarrassment to your family and I hate the idea of a group of mediocre Aurors witnessing the screams of their superior’s daughter. Please, call me as soon as Harry wakes up.”   
  
“No, they won’t!” Lily Luna exclaimed, monolithic in her anger. Draco stilled. “Dad used the Time-Bender Plus to see you and that must had interrupted the flow during the mission. That’s why he was hit! For your sake! What was that, Al? As if you don’t know that I’m perfectly right about this,” she laughed bitterly, opening her arms in a challenging manner. “But they are all so committed to cheer on your epic romance that they don’t realise how harmful it is and …. _morally wrong!”_   
  
“Morally wrong?” Draco repeated, with disbelief.   
  
“Yes!” Lily Luna insisted, setting herself throughout her whole five feet, as if it was an exceptional height. “Morally wrong! Moral, Malfoy. A word which, I imagine, is tricky to former Death Eaters like you!”   
  
This time Draco laughed, briefly and without joy.   
  
“Moral!” he cried out, savouring the grotesque sound of the word in his mouth.   
  
He must have touched a nerve, because Lily Luna clenched her fists and looked uncertain for the first time.   
  
“Why don’t you allow this very immoral Slytherin to offer you some tea, Lily Luna Potter?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Why not? I can offer you a good cup and you can enlighten me with the wisdom and the righteousness and the absolute moral firmness of a true Gryffindor! How else will I ever learn? After all – _and that’s absolutely true, my darling_ – I have associated myself with the Dark Lord and helped Death Eaters into Hogwarts and …”   
  
_“And yet you think you are worthy of my father’s love?!”_ she yelled, full of anguish.   
  
“Worthy?”   
  
Hot tears streamed down Lily Luna’s face as she walked towards Draco.   
  
“My father is the kindest man … the best man I know. The best man there is! It’s because of him that the Wizarding World is safe and we are alive! It’s because of him that we are free. And you think you’re worthy of such goodness?”   
  
Draco let out a sigh.   
  
“Worthy? No … no, I don’t think …” he stopped to ponder on his answer. “I don’t think I’m … I’m just … _in love with him. So in love with him,”_ he confessed in a low voice. James, Albus and even Ron Weasley were staring at him wide-eyed, numb and dumb. “I don’t know about worthy …”   
  
A healer came up from the closed door and asked for Weasley. He listened to her explanations and patted encouragingly Albus and James ’ shoulders .   
  
“He’s asleep … we hope he ’ll wake up soon. There is no permanent damage and no signs of internal bleeding. Your father is very, very strong. We need you to be strong too.”   
  
Albus and James sighed. Lily Luna crumbled on a chair, holding sobs.

 


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaand ... another chapter.
> 
> I must thank beta tavia_d (I always do on LJ, but I don't mention her name here and so) Also, I changed the tag "Drama" and put there "Angst" because honestly, LOL. I wasn't planning to make the characters suffer this much, but ooops? It happened. The story is also longer than I've originally planned. 
> 
> Anyway, the Weasleys aren't so bad.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

  
  
When Lucius Malfoy died, after a long and excruciating illness that reduced him to the shadow of the proud man he once was, the Wizengamot called Narcissa Malfoy to discuss the modalities of the funeral she was planning for her late husband.   
  
Although the Malfoys had been officially pardoned and all forms of reparation had been resolved, it remained an embarrassment to the Wizarding community the idea that such a wizard, once affiliated to the Dark Lord, could have been celebrated in a public manner or, for some unfortunate tendencies of journalism, even acclaimed by the press.   
  
_Useless and idiotic worries_ , Draco declared, trying to contain the urge to tear up the convocation letter or maybe returning it to the Wizengamot burnt and in pieces, so that they could have understood their simian disrespect.   
  
His mother, however, took back the letter and offered a serene smile, in hope to soften her son’s anger.   
  
The next day, perfectly punctual, she went to her hearing and declared, at the presence of witnesses, her free intent not to give any interviews, statements or comments to any reporter who would show up at her husband’s funeral.   
  
The ceremony was held according to her original plans: in a quiet Monday afternoon, in the North wing of the Manor, in the presence of very few guests.   
  
Draco had worn his best black robe, with his family crest, and left the burden of the brief eulogy to his mother, who pronounced a moving, honest speech about her beloved late husband.   
  
For his part, Draco was not sure what to say about the man who gave him life and condemned him to it.   
  
As a child, he adored Lucius as heroes and gods are adored. He had looked at him with wonder and admiration and wanted to imitate him in every possible way. And Lucius himself hadn’t been so scant of recognition and affection for his son, who was able to flourish under his stern but benevolent gaze.   
  
With the war everything changed. The father once almighty had proved to be a miserable deception.   
  
For months, even after the exile and the Wizengamot’s forgiveness, Draco felt a fierce hatred towards his father. A hatred that was difficult to disguise.   
  
Narcissa didn’t say anything about it. Only once, while cooing at her baby grandson, she had made an apparently vague remark on the bond between fathers and sons and hoped that the latter would not forget the hand who brought them to life.   
  
After hearing that, Draco put Scorpius in his cradle and stormed out.   
  
Much later he had the opportunity to reflect on her words and, although completely determined not to let his guard down before random spectators, he couldn’t hold back the tears in the privacy of his bedroom.   
  
Surely Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and Voldemort’s follower, didn’t deserve to be mourned. On the other hand, Lucius _the father …_   
  
For some joke of the mind, his father’s last day had returned to Draco’s memory as he was waiting in the hospital. The idea of losing Harry as he had lost him was too devastating to be only conceived.   
  
Returned home, and after ensuring that Scorpius was still at the Lovegoods, Draco lay down on his bed and cried his eyes out. And since he wasn’t accustomed to cry so freely anymore, the initial hiccups had almost surprised him. They sounded like the croaks of a frog. Unacceptable, unseemly. Then the tears finally arrived and, clawed to a pillow, Draco cried without limits.   
  
Were the words of little sour Potter or the memory of Lucius that hurt so bad? The mental image of Harry hit in the head, helpless and bleeding in a corner?   
  
Draco couldn’t tell how much time had passed. All of a sudden he heard Scorpius’ voice and someone else talking …. He rose from the bed and went straight to the living room without worrying about his appearance.   
  
Ron Weasley was the mystery guest, still dressed in his Auror uniform.   
  
Scorpius’ blue eyes widened at the probably unpleasant sight of his father.   
  
“Father, what happened?”   
  
“Scorpius please, I can’t answer any of your questions at the moment. Could you go to your room? I need to speak to Mr Weasley.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
Scorpius left in a hurry and Draco stayed in the room with his old childhood enemy.   
  
“I’d offer you some tea, but I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for unnecessary displays of courtesy.”   
  
“I get it,” Weasley said, sketching a sympathetic smile. “I came only to tell you about Harry’s conditions …”   
  
“Sit down,” Draco said, pointing at the two armchairs in front of them. “Has he got worse? What happened? Is he …”   
  
“No, no! If anything, I think his condition has improved. The Healers put him in a magical rest. They still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but at least he’s not getting worse and that’s good. He just needs to rest and recover.”   
  
“Surely.”   
  
“How are you, Malfoy?”   
  
Draco raised his eyebrows.   
  
“C’mon! Do you really think I’m so dull? So stuck in the past? Give me a bit more credit! I’m currently doing the same for you!”   
  
Draco sniffed and pushed back his tousled hair.   
  
“I guess it’s only fair.”   
  
“Well, thank you! I grew up too, you know?” Weasley pointed out, with a smug grin. Then he looked closely to him, as if he was searching for some kind of truth. “You really love him, don’t you? You do.”   
  
It didn’t feel much like a question, despite the quizzical tone. Weasley was just realizing it.   
  
Draco nodded.   
  
“Is that so weird? Are you planning to scream at me like your niece? It won’t be surprising after all. You’re Ginny’s brother, you must take her side.”   
  
“There are no sides. Ginny and Harry broke up a long, long time ago. I confess that it was not easy at first, I couldn’t understand their reasoning and Harry was like a brother to me and … it was very confusing. But I get things now. And anyway, it wasn’t my job to take sides. My job was to support and take care of these two people who I loved very much.”   
  
“Who said that?”   
  
“Hermione.”   
  
They both shared an amused grin.   
  
“So, what’s your take on her?” Weasley asked very seriously, after a while.   
  
“I beg your pardon?”   
  
“Your opinion on Hermione, on her being a muggleborn and everything. You used to despise her. You used to be … very bloody unpleasant to her.”   
  
“I understand now how wrong I was then. I hope I’ve amended to my mistakes and I believe that Scorpius grew up as a far better man than I ever was. That must mean something.”   
  
Weasley nodded.   
  
“Yeah. I just had to ask.”   
  
“I understand. Is she still your … are you still happy with her?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“You’re very lucky then. My sincere congratulations.”   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
They fell into a silence full of untold things. When Weasley spoke again, Draco didn’t even try to pretend.   
  
“He was thinking about you, you know? Not in a bad way like Lily said, more like ... in a truly being in love way. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and he told me.”   
  
Draco let out a sob.   
  
“I can’t stop thinking about him too,” he confessed, incapable of feeling ashamed.   
  
He was far too tired for shame, his bones far too heavy.   
  
“It kinda makes sense though.”   
  
“What?” Draco asked, his voice hoarse with tears.   
  
“This thing between you and him. He always had a strange obsession with you, even when we were just kids at Hogwarts.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“I wouldn’t know …”   
  
Draco put a hand over his mouth as he tried to contain the latest wave of sadness. It was so exhausting, so nauseating. He certainly couldn’t deal with that much pain.   
  
Weasley took pity of him. Came closer and grabbed him by the shoulders.   
  
“Malfoy … Draco …” he called, patting him gently. “It’s gonna be alright. We must trust Harry. He’s stronger than he looks and he always comes on top of these things. We saw that many times.”   
  
Draco nodded, managing to steady his breathing.   
  
“We need to trust him,” Weasley repeated, before giving him a last awkward pat and standing up. “It’s gonna be fine,” now his voice was a little hoarse and uncertain.   
  
Draco wiped his face and stood up, determined to decently greet his guest.   
  
“Of course. He’s Harry. Thanks for your visit Weasley, I very much appreciated it.”   
  
Weasley smiled and turned to the Floo, squeezing his eyes shut. He was looking incredibly tired.   
  
“Oh, I forgot! Before going … Harry showed me this. He was planning to give it to you and told me it was important, but I can’t understand why to be honest.”   
  
Weasley opened his jacket and pulled out a Remembrall, small and greenish.   
  
He handed it to Draco.   
  
“That’s yours. It has some secret deep meaning between the two of you, right?”   
  
“Yes … yes.”   
  
“Figured. ‘Night, Malfoy. Take care.”   
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here's the latest chapter. I hope you like and I hope to read your comments. Since in about 2 hours I will be older age-wise, I was thinking about posting another one very soon maybe? If I can find the time. I would like to ~spread the love~ starting right now (Which is apparently bad luck? One is supposed to wait until midnight to start any birthday celebration. I hope this won't mean I'm gonna suck for the whole year XD PLS NO)
> 
> And anyway, this chapter is crucial for the ending and, again, I must thank beta tavia_d (On LJ) 
> 
> I also realised that I keep the two spaces between paragraphs thingy, but it's something due to the LJ formatting and I'm far too lazy to fix it now. I hope it's not distracting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  
  
  
  
Draco returned to St Mungo’s after a few days, carrying a bag with the remaining clothes that Harry had left in his flat.   
  
  
According to the Healers, the Auror’s condition was gradually improving, so much that there was hope for a precocious awakening. So, just in case his funny brain was ready to start working again, Harry needed sweatshirts, wool socks and all the Muggle rags he loved to wear at home.   
  
  
After reaching the Spell Damage Unit, the Slytherin laid the bag on the floor and sat down in the hallway. He didn’t have to wait long. Hermione Granger appeared from the huge white door in front of him.   
  
  
“Draco, you came!”   
  
  
“Do I look that unreliable to you?” he asked, uncrossing his legs before standing up.   
  
  
“No, no, I wasn’t implying … I’m sorry, it’s just … nothing! Forget it, I’m babbling.”   
  
  
Granger hadn’t lost her youthful, vaguely anxious tendencies. Her hair, despite being collected by a fine golden clasp, continued to surge upward, as if she was perpetually thrilled. Yet the Ministerial robe suited her like a second skin and, although age had added a few wrinkles on her forehead and at the corner of her lips, her dark eyes looked bright with life.   
  
  
Hermione Granger was aging incredibly well, far better than him. So much for Voldemort’s propaganda about mudbloods and purebloods, that Aunt Bella was so diligent in repeating.   
  
  
“I brought what you asked,” he muttered, opening the bag. “Socks, sweaters … there’s a pyjamas and some towels. If I remember correctly, the ones they give you here are particularly unpleasant.”   
  
  
“Perfect. Thank you for bringing Harry’s stuff. Oh, there’s also the Cannons’ sweatshirt …”   
  
  
“Harry’s favourite,” Draco finished, nodding.   
  
  
Granger gave him a hesitant smile.   
  
  
“Listen, I asked the staff to admit you in his room. For now it’s just me and Ron and the children. The regulation allows only family members and …”   
  
  
“Don’t bother. We don’t need to make a procession to his room. I just need to know that he’s fine … better, I mean.”   
  
  
Granger frowned. Her eyes betrayed the pity she was feeling towards Draco and, for a moment, he seemed to realise what must had been for Harry to grow up next to a friend like her, especially when he didn’t like to be pitied by others.   
  
  
“Draco …”   
  
  
“So … about that tea?”   
  
  
Hermione and Draco turned around to see Lily Luna Potter.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They sat in at the Tearoom on the fifth floor, away from other families and patients, standing at the opposite sides of the table like chess contenders.   
  
  
Lily Luna had ordered a Muggle beverage – a _pappaccino_ , or something – while Draco had a cup of Earl Grey. The girl’s expression was determined. Her white freckled hands were wrapped around her hot cup with a nervous grip.   
  
  
“You’re going to burn your palms, if you keep holding the cup so tight.”   
  
  
“Like you care?”   
  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows and added a second lump of sugar in his tea. The conversation was going to be quite bitter, after all.   
  
  
“My brothers hate me,” Lily began.   
  
  
“My regrets.”   
  
  
“My brothers hate me,” she repeated. “Albus does. He doesn’t want to talk to me, he’s been avoiding me. Even James thinks I’m too much. He says that dad … he says that I should give you a chance. He asked me to talk to you.”   
  
  
“And if James asks …”   
  
  
“Please, don’t be sarcastic,” she snapped, pressing her palm on the table.   
  
  
Draco looked up slowly, keeping a wisely unreadable expression. He examined the kid’s angry face, the freckles on her smooth cheeks, the hair that almost touched her shoulders. He saw only a little girl, blindly determined. Alone.   
  
  
“What do you want from my dad?” she asked, red with embarrassment. It was difficult to maintain the same level of anger.   
  
  
“At the moment I just want him to wake up. I want to look at his stupid, goofy smile and hear him promise that he’s fine. Nothing more.”   
  
  
“You want to be with him.”   
  
  
“That would be nice,” Draco murmured, savouring a sip of his tea. It wasn’t as bad as he thought.   
  
  
“I don’t understand,” Lily said, grinding her teeth. “You were sworn enemies and whatever. What’s changed?”   
  
  
Draco thought about the answer for a long minute.   
  
  
“Everything, that would be your father’s answer probably. Not much, in my opinion. The years have come and gone uneventful. We aged … _I_ aged. Your father looks better than me. I blame my delicate complexion.” _And my lack of joy_ , he didn’t say. “I saw my father in Azkaban and I spent years in exile. I paid the war reparations and tried to restore the good name of my family. I think I did, if not totally at least in part, and yet … I cannot say that I’m a different man. I didn’t engage in revolutionary activism as your aunt Hermione, I still don’t share your father’s bravery. Maybe I should have been more involved with the Reconstruction, but that’s not in my nature.”   
  
  
“Self-preserving Slytherin.”   
  
  
Draco grinned.   
  
  
“Self-preserving Slytherin, Malfoy, turncoat … call me whatever you like, all these names belong to me,” he said, welcoming Lily’s confusion. “ _Death Eater,_ ” he added softly, filled with evil glee.   
  
  
The girl winced slightly, tightening her grip on the cup, but looking straight at him, fearless like a true Weasley-Potter.   
  
  
“My parents,” she began, with a look that betrayed pride and regret. “They have fought side by side for the right cause. My mother has always been on my father’s side, even when it was dangerous.”   
  
  
“So the question is: what do I have that your heroic mother does not?”   
  
  
“No!” she exclaimed too quickly. “Yes! I mean … Why do you think you’re better? Why do you deserve my father?”   
  
  
With a bored grimace, Draco brought back a rebellious lock of blonde hair that had escaped his ponytail.   
  
  
“I don’t believe that I’m better than your mother,” he admitted, without difficulty. “As I said, I don’t think I’ve done particularly remarkable actions and I can’t say that I stuck with your teenage father as he was destroying the Hogwarts grounds.”   
  
  
Lily raised her voice.   
  
  
“So you’re no better than my mother, you’re not brave, you’re still the same! I don’t understand! You’re basically saying that I’m right: you don’t deserve my father!”   
  
  
“Because in this life everyone’s got what he deserves, right?” Draco retorted, without regard to the strangers who turned to look at him. And then, more softly. “Yes, you’re probably right. In an ideal world, I shouldn’t be allowed to be near your father.”   
  
  
“Then why?”   
  
  
“I don’t know,” Draco admitted, leaning against the back of his chair. “Because Harry is really too good for this world, perhaps. Because I’ve been absolved of my sins … I have no idea, I just know that … I can’t believe I’m telling you of all the people …”   
  
  
“Well … I’m Harry Potter’s daughter, I’m involved!” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest.   
  
  
For the first time, Draco felt a strange tenderness for that unbearable, self-righteous little Gryffindor. She was not that different from the arrogant boy he once was.   
  
  
“When I realised that I had feelings for your father I was still at Hogwarts. If I remember correctly, I was looking for some good results in Potions, at least. It wasn’t easy after the war, especially since I didn’t know my parents’ fate. Your father … I don’t know how to describe him. He had saved the Wizarding World and me. He had saved me from a horrible death and testified on behalf of my family, saving me once again. For all my life I’ve thought it was hatred … the not-so-secret obsession I was harbouring for him since our first meeting. But that was turning into something different. Something beautiful and terrifying. Of all the people I could have loved ... But your father was engaged to your mother, so I couldn ’t tell him. ”   
  
  
“You fell in love with dad at Hogwarts?”   
  
  
Draco smiled briefly.   
  
  
“I believe so, yes.”   
  
  
“And you didn ’t tell him ?”   
  
  
“ _What?_ Nice hair, Potter! And, by the way, I think I’m in love with you. Would you like to leave your current girlfriend and run away with a former Death Eater?”   
  
  
Lily held her breath.   
  
  
“I’ve never expected anything out of it. It was only something of mine, something I used to feel. But then your father decided to become friendly and later he …” Draco stopped, bit his lips. “Perhaps I’m not that different from your mother. I too fell in love with Harry so young and I too have waited for him for a very long time. So, to answer your previous question. No, I don’t believe I deserve Harry, and yet ... the idea of losing him sickens me to my core. I ’ve never had something like this and the possibility of not having it again pains me. It would feel like Dementors sucking my soul, like losing all my bones,”   
  
  
Draco stared directly into Lily’s eyes and they were wet with tears.   
  
  
“It would feel like losing all my bones.”   
  
  
Embarrassingly enough, the confession took away the last remnants of energy he had left. Draco closed his eyes and fell back against the chair, exhaling a long, exhausted sigh. His cold hands, trembling and crannied, leaned on the table and slender, graceful fingers closed around his thumbs.   
  



	12. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the birthday wishes!
> 
> I managed to wrote the new chapter and post it very quickly. Celebration, yay! :D And I really loved writing this one. I hope you appreciate it too. Let me know.

  
  
  
  
  
Lily woke up with a start. The Defence Against the Dark Arts handbook she had brought with her had fallen from the chair, where she was curled up sleeping, and ended up on the ground with a bang.   
  
  
Suddenly conscious to be in the hall of St Mungo’s hospital, the young witch wiped her damp chin and looked around warily. Luckily, no one was wandering in the corridors at that unusual hour and uncle Ron and aunt Hermione were too busy with their business at the Ministry to notice her.   
  
  
Although her classes were about to start, Lily had no intention to go back to Hogwarts, not with her father still unconscious in a hospital bed. But aunt Hermione had other ideas and aunt Hermione was obsessed with good grades and upcoming OWLs and everything! She was planning an extremely unpleasant study schedule for her, but Lily also had her own ideas.   
  
  
She had devised the perfect plan to avoid going back which was also about some bad nights hidden in the St Mungo’s Tearoom, but there were more pressing matters than some stupid exams and since she wasn’t even able to produce a Patronus, the exam thing was kinda tricky anyway …   
  
  
In any case, Lily was determined to stay with her dad until his awakening. Harry had not suffered a severe injury since that time when she was four and the only thing a daughter could do was to stay at her father’s side.   
  
  
Also there was the issue with Malfoy … but that was for later.   
  
  
James interrupted her thoughts as he came from the elevator behind.   
  
  
“Hey  _Lula!_ What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be busy packing?”   
  
  
Lily adjusted her darned dark orange sweater, wrinkled from the long nap in the chair, and gave him a beaming smile.   
  
  
“Hey! It’s all ready. I thought that, since I was done with my stuff, I could come back here and … look! I even brought a book to study!” she said, showing the heavy volume.   
  
  
James nodded distantly.   
  
  
“Still nothing?” he asked, biting his lip.   
  
  
“Nah. But they say he’s much better, that he could wake up any moment now. He’s basically just sleeping at this point.”   
  
  
“Okay, I’m gonna go in and …”   
  
  
“Does Albus still hate me?” Lily asked, point-blank. James turned to her, frowning. “So, does he?”   
  
  
“Al doesn’t hate you!”   
  
  
“Jamie, you don’t need to …”   
  
  
_“At all!”_  
  
  
“ … Make up lame excuses for us to get along,” she finished, clenching their fists. “That’s not your job.”   
  
  
James let out a sigh and ran his hands through his dark hair.   
  
  
“Listen, that dinner story was really unpleasant and …”   
  
  
“I know,” she admitted, in a low voice.   
  
  
Her brother’s eyes widened in disbelief.   
  
  
“I know,” she confirmed, determined to be honest. In an instant she remembered Draco Malfoy’ suffering stare as he confessed his feelings. He hadn’t even said those things to her dad. “I was …  _unfair_.”   
  
  
“Like uncle Percy trying to get on a broom,” James deadpanned. “But you’ve changed your mind, huh? So it’s over with the whole rage thing?”   
  
  
“Yes, it’s over.”   
  
  
“Okay,” he muttered, scratching his neck. “Okay … nice. Perfect!”   
  
  
Lily nodded, a bit embarrassed, but without adding anything.   
  
  
“Perfect!” James repeated, pointing at their father’s room. “I’m going in now …”   
  
  
“Sure, okay.”   
  
  
“Don’t stay here, Lula. Go back to Grimmauld place and take a nice bath. Just relax. He’s gonna wake up soon, you know?”   
  
  
“Sure!”   
  
  
James headed to the white door. Then stopped, turned around.   
  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked, very seriously.   
  
  
“Sure,” she said again, flashing a big smile. Thank Merlin, James didn’t have an inquisitive mind. “Why?”   
  
  
“You seem just … nothing!” he replied, smiling back and walking through the door.   
  
  
Lily let out a sigh.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Albus was admitted to Hogwarts – the first year Lily had been allowed to get that close to the train – his fear of failure, the anxiety of being possibly sorted in Slytherin and the loneliness of being away from home had made him ill.   
  
  
Lily hadn’t really understood what her brother’s illness was. She only remembered that he looked more pale and thin after coming back, and mom and dad had even muttered something about a curse.   
  
  
Albus had not confirmed nor denied his siblings’ assumptions. More quiet than usual, he had locked himself in his room to read about Thestrals and other strange creatures. Only dad was allowed to come in and he alone could make Al laugh, so much that when he recovered, the first one he asked to celebrate with was him.   
  
  
Lily had envied that bond, so strong and warm.   
  
  
For a time, she even wanted to catch a curse or something, so she could allow only dad in her bedroom and spend some time being comforted by him.   
  
  
Then she went to Hogwarts and her parents divorced. Everything changed.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As the visiting hours began, relatives and friends of the patients crowded the Fourth Floor. Inevitably Lily could be seen by her uncles or her mother, just returned from her Bulgarian tour. So, she collected her book and notes and sneaked out as quickly as a Snitch.   
  
  
A few feet from St Mungo’s, the Muggles had built a playground, with the statue of a famous guy surrounded by trees.   
  
  
Lily loved that spot and the trees, so close to each other, towered higher than the houses. Climbing to the top of them, she could admire the horizon, the sunset over the buildings.   
  
  
Lily was born a climber. From her parents she took her physical strength and an indomitable stamina. As her parents, she would have loved to play as Chaser or Seeker in the Quidditch team, but apparently her real talent was to beat the bludger as hard as she could.

 

She was the most formidable Beater that Hogwarts had ever seen, able to direct the bludgers to her opponents, causing many accidents.  Someone had nicknamed her Lily ‘The Bonecrusher’ and that helped with her reputation of being unbeatable and scary.   
  
  
“Lily the Bonecrusher doesn’t know how to produce a Patronus,” she murmured to herself, pressing her head against the tree.   
  
  
There was irony in that and a lot of logic, if she was honest. In order to produce a Patronus a wizard needed a happy memory and Lily couldn’t find one strong enough, no matter how hard she tried.   
  
  
Not that she was short on good memories, but they all seemed very far, buried by layers of dust and inaccessible. After going at Hogwarts, it felt as if all the happiness had gone from the world and the only thing Lily was able to feel was anger. Destructive, blind anger.   
  
  
Perhaps she wasn’t that different from Death Eaters. Her mother and aunt Hermione often told her how the Death Eaters had given up their humanity and purest feelings to pursue their murderous ideals. A Death Eater, for example, couldn’t produce a Patronus Charm and would be pleased to cause pain and turmoil. Just like Lily. Just like what she did at her last dinner with dad, shouting and forcing him to leave Mr Malfoy. So what was the difference anyway?   
  
  
Chasing away the tears, Lily came down from the tree. She picked up her book and went back to the hospital.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dad Harry had fallen in love with a person who hadn’t fought the Second Wizarding War by his side and still had a mark on his arm to prove it.   
  
  
Still, when Draco Malfoy confessed his feelings in front of a cup of cold tea, he seemed  _more human_   _than_  ... he seemed truly sincere and Lily had even desired to comfort him. She had stretched out her hands to reach his.    
  
  
Then she had stiffened, embarrassed, and ran away from the table.   
  
  
She needed to get back to dad and to James, the only one who could still tolerate her presence. She felt lonely and incredibly sad. Hopeless.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Dad …” Lily whispered, closing the door behind her.    
  
  
Harry was lying in a corner, pale and motionless, a large bandage covering his wounded head.   
  
  
“Dad?” she called again, coming closer in small steps. “Please, wake up! I have to tell you something …”   
  
  
Aunt Hermione and mum had left without leaving anything in the room. Lily was alone in a cold, empty, joyless space.   
  
  
“I have to apologise,” she confessed, once at his side. “I’m really sorry that I said those terrible things to you and him … I’m sorry. I don’t do that on purpose, that’s just how I am … _I’m bad,_ ” she exhaled, as tears ran down her face.    
  
  
As a child, crying in front of dad would have been already a solution. Her father would had taken her up and made her forget the reason behind the tears.    
  
  
“I’m bad … there’s something wrong with me.”   
  
  
_“Lily …”_   
  
  
She jerked upright and checked her father’s face, his hands.   
  
  
“Dad?”    
  
  
Her father was barely moving his clapped lips.   
  
  
She grabbed her wand and shouted  _“Lumos!”_  lighting up the shadowy room.   
  
  
Harry shut his eyes impossibly closed and let out a pained yelp.   
  
  
“I’m sorry! Too much light … sorry, dad! Just wanted to make sure … are you awake? Can you hear me? I should call the Healers …”   
  
  
But before she could move, Harry had grabbed her arm.   
  
  
“Lula … were you crying? What happened?” he asked, in the same sleepy tone he used when he got up at night to check on the children.   
  
  
Lily almost laughed.   
  
  
“Don’t you remember? You’ve been hit …”   
  
  
This time Harry fully opened his eyes and in them Lily recognized a flash of awareness and lucidity.    
  
  
“Forgive me,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault! I’m bad. I’m sorry that I’m bad …”   
  
  
“You’re not. Why would you say that? You’re not bad.”   
  
  
“But … I feel so angry, all the time.”    
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened.   
  
  
_“I’m not like you,_ dad.  _I’m not good,_ ” she confessed, fighting sobs. “I’m just angry.”   
  
  
In an instant she found herself drown in a hug too weak, but firm and warm.


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here the latest chapter. My plan is to write another one and then the Epilogue.
> 
> Let me know what you think about this!

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco woke up at dawn, alone in his desolate bed. Not that he had that much sleep, tortured by nightmares and thoughts, but after a week of restless nights, his body craved a couple of hours of peace.  
  
  
On the bedside table before him two Remembrall were shining, barely touched by the warm glow of a candle. The oldest red one and the little greenish one, a gift from Harry. Draco looked at them for a long minute, before getting up.   
  
  
In the shower, he washed himself thoroughly and shaved his scruffy face. He decided to wear a dark grey suit, with a blue shirt and a silk cravat. He tied his hair on the back of his neck and headed to the Floo. Placed on the pale marble, there was a bouquet of red roses, perfectly packaged and still fresh. Draco considered it for a moment, then chose not to bring it along.  
  
  
Lastly, before going out, he scrupulously studied his profile, his pale and tired face in the unforgiving mirror. On the forehead and under his eyes, he was bearing marks of time that his father didn’t have at his age.  
  
  
Maybe it wasn’t a matter of mudbloods or purebloods, perhaps he was simply unable to age gracefully.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He reached the Fourth Floor of St. Mungo’s and sat on his usual spot, waiting.  
  
  
A constant buzz was coming from Harry’s room. Draco pictured the great Potter-Weasley family gathered to celebrate their loved one and, as he took a hard look at the wrinkles on his jacket, he decided to be quick. If the Weasleys, or whomever, would have asked him to go after just few minutes, he would have respected their wishes and go. After all, Harry belonged to them and he …  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy?”  
  
  
Draco straightened up on his chair, while called by Albus Severus’ gentle voice.  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy, you came!” he smiled. “Follow me. Dad’s expecting you.”  
  
  
Draco nodded, standing up. He immediately regretted his decision to not bring the flowers. Having something to grasp would had distracted him.  
  
  
He followed young Albus over the big door never crossed before and reached the entrance to a small room, whose door was ajar.  
  
  
“Please, come in,” Albus whispered.  
  
  
Draco made his entry into Harry’s private room.   
  
  
It was very small but tidy. The bed was placed on a side, equipped with replaceable sheets and soft pillows, on which Teddy and James Sirius were sitting, engaged in the building of a house of cards. The women, Granger, Ginevra and Lily Luna, were chatting and among them, sitting next to a small table for meals, Harry was listening, his hand clasped to his daughter’s.  
  
  
Draco swallowed, pressing his shoulder next to the private bathroom door.  
  
  
“Guys, hey! Draco … Mr Malfoy is here.”  
  
  
Everyone became aware of his presence and Draco had to dominate the curious embarrassment that was bringing him into the verge of blushing, looking down at his shoes.  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy!” Teddy and James greeted, jumping up and collecting their scattered cards. “Let’s go take a butterbeer! Wanna come with us, Al?”  
  
  
“Sure.”  
  
  
And with that, the Potter boys had vanished.  
  
  
“Harry, I’m going too,” Hermione Granger said. “We are going to continue this conversation later. Okay, Ginny?”  
  
  
“Yes. Let’s go.”  
  
  
Ginevra Weasley, splendidly fit in her juniper green suit, touched her former husband’s shoulder and lead their daughter out of the room, greeting Draco with a polite nod.  
  
  
Draco opened the door for them and stepped aside, courteously.  
  
  
In the silence of the room finally cleared, he took a deep breath before turning around to face Harry.  
  
  
He was wearing the white gown for patients long up to his knees and an old woollen jacket over his shoulders, complete with a pair of horrendous thick socks of the same fabric. His head and face were completely shaved. On his skull, eye height on the left and for almost a finger, there was the scar from the curse, thick and still pink above the ear.  He had opened his arms and was waiting, overwhelmed with emotion.   
  
  
Suddenly, Draco froze.  
  
  
“Finally,” Harry muttered, breaking the silence. “Come closer, love.”  
  
  
Draco took a chair and tried to place it next to his.  
  
  
“No, no … Draco, please … I need you … I have to …”  
  
  
The whispered plea was enough for Draco to fall on his knees and lean forward to take Harry’s hands. He was still suffering from the wound near his hip and his stomach was covered with thick bandages visible despite the gown.  
  
  
Draco studied the bandages and, with terror, he imagined the exact moment the wound was inflicted. Then he felt like losing every last shred of self-control and pressed his lips against Harry’s knobby knees, against the hands that sought him and held him, creeping through his hair. Against the slimmed chest and the side of the neck where the stubble was growing back. Against warm lips and eyes moist with tears.  
  
  
“I missed you so much,” Harry whispered, smiling between kisses. “I wanted to tell you … I needed to tell you just how much …”  
  
  
Draco didn’t let him finish. He continued to kiss him with the same intensity of a starving man and cupped his face, to examine the new scar above his ear with his fingers. It was thick, incredibly pink. The two sides of damaged skin were perfectly united one on the other by magic. The skull was almost smooth there, while the shaved hair grew thicker and longer on the other side of Harry’s head. Draco felt the impulse to laugh, picturing Mighty Auror Harry Potter shaved just on one side.  
  
  
“Look at me, please,” Harry said, tenderly brushing his face. “I’m fine, love. All is well.”  
  
  
Draco stilled. He collapsed on himself, bowed between Harry’s bare legs.  
  
  
“So it happened because of me, then? Did they hurt you because …”  
  
  
“No, no!” Harry interrupted. “Don’t ever think that! I couldn’t bear you thinking that … It wasn’t your fault. Before going on the mission, I had to see you. I had to talk to you and tell you how sorry I was, how I wanted to stay next to you and take care of you, just like I promised …”  
  
  
Draco closed his eyes and Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips against his forehead.  
  
  
“I couldn’t go without seeing you.”  
  
  
Draco let out a long sigh and felt Harry’s forehead rubbing against his own until they both giggled. When he heard his lover coughing and probably secretly suffering from the effort of stretching towards him  _\- bloody stupid Gryffindor!_  – he stood up.   
  
  
He fixed the wool jacket and helped Harry get on his bed, taking him into his arms.  
  
  
“This is wonderful,” Harry sighed, laying between the sheets. “Having you here.”  
  
  
Draco adjusted the pillows behind his back, the blanket on his feet and rumpled sheets on his sides. At last, he bent over him, careful not to touch the wounded hip, gentle in his lover’s embrace.  
  
  
“I’m in love with you,” Harry confessed, his luminous eyes darkened by long black lashes. “I love you, Draco.”  
  
  
They kissed quietly, because there was no need for more words. Draco undid his long white-blond hair that fell on the pillow, on Harry’s face and neck.   
  
  



	14. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this fic is basically over. Stay tuned for the Epilogue and, if you want, comment and let me know what you think. I'd love to read from you!
> 
> Many thanks to beta tavia_d, although I slightly changed the dialogue here, to cover more stuff. I hope that's correct. XD

 

 

 

In the narrow hospital bed, Draco and Harry continued to kiss each other like feverish schoolboys. 

Careful not to crush his lover’s wounded side, Draco prised on his arms and bowed his head just enough to catch Harry’s frantic, wet kisses. The Gryffindor was grabbing his face and, despite the effort and the potential pain of stretching his abdominal muscles, he made their groins touch. It was practically impossible not to pin him down on the mattress, albeit partially.

Harry’s pale face offered little contrast to the whiteness of the pillows, but his jaw and neck were reddened by kisses. Green eyes clutched, when moans of pleasure or perhaps pain erupted from his throat. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s back and, with greedy hands, tried to pull him closer.

“Harry … Harry, stop!” Draco panted, regaining a bit of self-control. “I’ll hurt you like this … I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, propping himself. “Lie down now, darling. I don’t want to cause you any pain,” he murmured, peppering Harry’s face with kisses.

Exhausted by the effort, the Auror fell back on the pillows.

Draco pulled away very slowly. For a moment, he leaned on his right side and lifted his lover’s gown to examine the bandages. He ascertained the presence of pinkish blood stain beyond the layer of gauze and felt remorse for having gone along with Harry and his arousing stubbornness.

“That’s normal,” Harry whispered, peaking at his wounded side. “A few drops of blood won’t kill me anyway.”

“No, they won’t. But I will, if you don’t take care of yourself properly,” Draco replied, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, snuggling in the limited space of the bed.

In this position he could touch the bandages and feel Harry’s accelerated pulse slowly returning to normal.

“Draco … water, please?”

The Slytherin stood up immediately and brought a floating glass to his lover’s lips. While holding the back of his head, he let his other hand wander in the direction of the scar, swollen and indented under his fingerprints.

Putting the glass back on the table with a quick wand movement, Draco continued to explore Harry’s skull, the huge ugly scar on his side.

“I’m sorry, Draco.”

“For what?” he croaked, coughing to find his voice. “You didn’t hurt yourself.”

“I promised that you’d be safe with me, that I would never make you suffer. But I …”

Draco shook his head. He placed a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips and curled up in the crook of his arm again.

“I love you too, you know …” he said, almost inaudible. “I have loved you for a very long time.”

As he felt Harry holding his breath, Draco gathered all of his strength to stand up.

“I should probably go now.”

He tried to get up, but Harry grabbed his wrist. There were tears in his green eyes and a lot of disbelief mixed with realisation.

“Since when?”

Draco shrugged.

“I’m sure your daughter already told you …”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

Draco let his eyes wander down the white walls that smelled of healing spells and herbal remedies. For a moment, he pictured himself back at Hogwarts, in Madam Pomfrey’s infirmary, visiting the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team who just fell from his broomstick while catching the snitch. And the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team – _Harry, his beloved Harry_ – didn’t hate him at all. And even he, Draco, was not as vile and arrogant in his presence, but friendly and sincere and …. For how many years he had cultivated the same stupid fantasy?

“Draco …”

Harry was back up, the idiotic git. Sitting behind him, holding his chest and pressing his lips on the curve of his neck.

“I don’t want you to feel obliged to do or say anything,” Draco uttered, refusing to turn around. “It’s just something I’m used to and it’s comforting, even if it may seem odd to you. You don’t have to reciprocate …”

“I just told you I do.”

“Since Hogwarts, since … I used to believe it was hatred but now …. now you know. That’s truly embarrassing, everything considered. Don’t you agree?”

“No. No, it’s not,” Harry replied, as he placed another kiss on his lover’s neck.

Somebody knocked on the door and Harry and Draco broke their embrace, but the Auror held his lover’s hand.

“Stay here with me,” he asked firmly.

Draco could only nod.

They sat in the chairs they had used a few moments before, this time arranged side by side so that they could keep touching each other.

Hermione entered the room and immediately noticed their joined hands. She smiled gracefully and sat before them, determined to explain Lily Luna’s condition and possible solutions to help her get better. Harry listened attentively, interrupting only to formulate quick questions, never taking his eyes off her. Occasionally, his thumb stroked the back of Draco’s hand.

“… And that’s why I think that it would be the best solution for her. Muggles have done a lot of research for this kind of diseases and their drug therapies … I admit that they should be integrated with the magic, but I believe they could do the job.”

“And there would be no side effects?”

“Not if we integrate them with our magic. I’m already thinking about some options for …”

This time it was Draco who interrupted Hermione.

“I have personally investigated a formula to alleviate the sense of fatigue or disruption. I also rely on good refilling places and it would be easier for me to search for ingredients or procure effective potions.”

“It would be very helpful. Thank you, Draco.”

Harry let out a sigh.

“In any case, we have to talk about this in her presence. We can’t decide for her, we can’t ignore her wishes or questions or doubts … it’s Lily the one who needs to choose. We just must make her understand that we’ll be there to support her, whatever she decides to do. She’s my Lily and even if I haven’t noticed her pain before … I’ll make it up to her now, trying to be a better father than I was.”

“Oh Harry …” Hermione murmured, caressing her friend’s arm. “Of course it’s Lily’s choice. And I believe that she will make the right one.”

 

 

 

Lily Luna came in her father’s room, accompanied by her mother Ginny and uncle Ron, who occasionally made her smile. Albus, James and Teddy came back too, to comfort their sister and assist in her decision. Later Rose and Hugo arrived and then some other Weasley cousin. All the while, Draco didn’t move from his chair. With his fingers intertwined with Harry’s, who didn’t seem to even consider the idea of letting him go, he witnessed the recomposition of the family.

 

 

 

 

“I think it’s appropriate for me to leave at this point,” Draco muttered, braiding his hair back and putting on his grey jacket. “I should probably send an owl to Scorpius, before he’ll come up with the unfortunate idea of running away from Hogwarts to come looking for me.”

Harry laughed, lying back on the pillows. In the tray next to his bed there were the poor remnants of his dinner. His heavy lids were banging frantically to avoid surrendering to the fatigue.

“You should sleep, my love,” Draco whispered, leaning on him for one last kiss, running a hand over his tired eyes. “Sleep.”

“Will you come tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will come to you forever.”

Harry beamed.

“I want forever with you.”

“Then you should get better.”

Harry opened his eyes and stared at him with such determination that Draco almost felt like shivering. He placed his hand on his lover’s chest, right above his heart. Draco’s blood was racing in his veins.

“It’s been so long for you … so bloody long.”

“Harry, you don’t have to …”

“You’ve waited for so many years, without asking for anything. Without ever telling me the truth.”

“I couldn’t.”

The Slytherin held the hand upon his chest as it was an anchor. For the first time in years, and since he started his relationship with Harry, he felt truly naked in front of him. He _was_ naked, without excuses or half-truths.

“You’ve waited for me long enough. And now I’m here. And now it’s time for you to stop waiting.”

 

 

 

 


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And even this story is over.
> 
> Thanks to beta tavia_d. Thank you so much to those who commented, liked, left kudos and everything. I hope you can enjoy this unbecoming amound of fluff. I'm the literal worst. Also I apologize for eventual inconveniences with the formatting. The thing I generally use is making me mad and there's that. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this story and I have ~so many feelings~ about Draco and Harry, I wish I could write MOAR :3

 

 

  
The sleeves of his robe were too long. Draco noticed it regrettably late, when he was folding them on his wrists. Fixing them back with clasps hid the complicated design with snakes, leaves and vine branches, but leaving them free almost covered his hands up to his knuckles. As if the whole aesthetic of the ceremony was not focused on the hands!

 

“Oh Salazar …” he breathed, twisting and pulling the crimson cloth.  

 

“Need any help?” Scorpius asked, closing the door behind him. “I can help you. I’m ready.”  

 

And he was; dressed in a perfect Muggle style, with a grey and blue suit that brought out his eyes. Draco was beginning to grieve over his chosen shade of crimson red, too dark for his complexion.  

 

“It would appear so,” he admitted, waving his arms in defeat.  

 

Scorpius smiled and pointed his wand in the sleeves direction. The snakes and golden screws curled up instantly.  

 

“Oh!” 

 

“Do you like it? They are Madame Malkin’s new creations. I thought she explained to you how they work.”

 

“No, she didn’t,” Draco mumbled, turning his attention to the mirror. His hair was loose on the shoulders, apart from two strands braided behind his head. It was somehow curly on the ends. “Or maybe she did and I’ve already forgotten it. I had too much to deal with in the recent weeks, so many details to finalise … maybe I should have taken more time to organise this ceremony. And, after all, considering my age …”  

 

Scorpius gave him a reproachful glare and Draco fell instantly silent.  

 

“So … how do I look?” he asked, turning towards him.  

 

“Good,” the boy replied almost automatically. And then, more thoughtfully. “ _Really good_ , father.”  

 

Draco smiled at his encouragement and approached him to fix his jacket.  

 

“You look nervous, though … do you feel nervous? How do you feel? How does it feel to take such a huge step? All eyes will be on you and …”  

 

“You’re really suited to reassure people ahead of a major social event, my darling son.”  

 

Scorpius pouted and shook his head.  

 

“Sorry!”  

 

Draco smiled.  

 

“Now that I’ve heard your usual avalanche of questions, I do feel strangely reassured,” he confessed.   

 

Scorpius rolled his eyes.  

 

“So, how do you feel?” he asked again.  

 

“Tense,” Draco replied. “Lot of tension and …”  

 

“And?”  

 

“A strange feeling too, as if I’m dreaming, as if I shouldn’t be here doing this. I was growing old quietly with the awareness that I would never get married and … it’s curious to notice that the contrary is happening. Moreover, I feel like this is completely inappropriate because you should wear the ceremonial robe and I should accompany you to the altar. That would be natural.”  

 

“ _Conventional_ , you mean! And you know I don’t give a damn about the conventions. Neither does _he_.”  

 

Draco nodded. 

 

“I surrounded myself with rebels and misfits, for some reason …”  

 

Someone knocked at the door. Teddy’s heart shaped face and blue hair appeared out of nothing, apparently.  

 

“Everything is ready. We are waiting!” he warned, disappearing with the same speed of light.  

 

Panic gripped Draco’s stomach and the Slytherin gasped. Scorpius took his arm, smiling.

  

“Come on, father. Let’s show everyone who the Malfoys are.”   

 

 

 

 

 

 

The gazebo set up for the ceremony was white, decorated with lanterns and golden powders, bright and beautiful. It was located at the entrance of the Manor, so Draco and Scorpius could access it by a private path.

 

Clinging to his son’s arm, as if his very life depended on it, Draco reached the arch that brought him on the inside, where the guests were waiting. He took a deep breath as he took his first steps towards the altar.   

 

Every eye was truly fixed on him and, like a few other occasions in his life, made him feel very nervous. He turned around and saw his mother sitting next to her sister Andromeda. Narcissa Malfoy was unashamedly crying of joy and that sight caused him a bittersweet pang on the chest.   

 

He advanced next to Hermione Granger, the designated Minister, and then to Harry, who was waiting at the edge of the altar. He was wearing a robe identical to his, only green. His regrown hair seemed more impossible than usual and even the beard had reached a considerable length. On the left side of the head, just above the ear, there was the beginning of an ugly, hidden scar. Another one of his endless repertoire. Draco was used to them, but perhaps he was still trembling when he touched the one which took Harry away from him for so many painful days.  

 

There were new wrinkles around his shining green eyes and silver lines on his chin, but Harry’s smile was youthful. It was the smile of the restless Hogwarts student, the Quidditch champion, the boy who Draco met in an August morning at Madam Malkin and immediately wanted to impress.  

 

“Thanks,” Harry said to Scorpius, who nodded and disappeared.  

 

Left alone, Draco lurched forward in an unworthy fashion. He blushed, embarrassed and overcome with emotion, but Harry held out his hands and took his, squeezing them firmly. All was going to be well.    

 

 

 

 

 

  
_“Long live the newlyweds!”_

 

A huge coloured confetti dragon exploded on the ceiling as the young Weasleys ran in every part of the dance floor.  

 

Harry laughed and pulled Draco in a hug, pressing his rough beard against his rosy cheeks and neck. Their children began to dance: James and Lily and then Scorpius, Albus, Teddy. They were smiling and messing around.  

 

When Ron and Hermione squeezed Harry in a hug to congratulate him for the umpteenth time, Draco took the opportunity to get out of the pavilion and head towards the entrance of the old garden shrouded in the darkness of night.  

 

Harry surprised him in a matter of minutes.  

 

“Already tired of me?” he asked, leaving behind the brightness of the wedding feast, advancing towards him with the decision of a true Gryffindor hero. 

 

Draco beamed and shook his head and sank into his passionate kissing.  

 

“I’m so happy right now, Draco. Are you happy?”  

 

“Are you seriously contemplating the idea of me leaving you hours after we pronounced our vows?” he asked, quite amused.  

 

Harry adorably scrunched his face. Draco laughed.  

 

“I’m planning to reach two hundred at your side,” he whispered, ever so softly against his husband’s lips. “Unless you’d become very annoying after your retirement and such.”  

 

“Shut up, Malfoy!”  

 

They kissed again, alternating gentle caresses of lips with small playful bites.  

 

“Personally, I’m planning to consummate this marriage as often as we can, as harder as we can, before we’ll get that ancient. That’s why I quit the Aurors, you know.”  

 

“Of course.”  

 

“Where were you going, love?”  Draco turned around and pointed at the entrance of the gardens, wrapped in a strangely inviting darkness.  

 

“I know that this place carries so many bad memories for you and your friends,” he said, holding Harry close. “And I can’t thank you enough for choosing it to host our wedding despite everything, because it’s everything I ever wanted and you made it happen.” 

 

“Draco, I just want to …”  

 

“Make me happy, I know. This place used to do that. These gardens. Do you want me to show you?”  

 

Harry grinned and took his hand.  

 

 

 

 

 

They walked side by side in the darkly gardens, among hawthorn and blackberry bushes, in the paths that opened and closed as they passed.  

 

Harry wasn’t particularly trusting of mazes like that, but the Malfoy garden seemed as it wanted to show him only delights: exotic flowers that danced and parted at his touch, fountains gushing with fresh water, magical and secret fruit trees. Draco’s lips tasted each time of new sweetness and from his long fingers Harry could lick honey red as cherries.  

 

_‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for his love is better than wine’,_ where did he read something like that?  

 

And they kissed, for a very long time, pressed against the foliage walls.  

 

When they reached the end of the garden, dawn was colouring the sky.  

 

“Do you think they noticed our absence?”  

 

Draco laughed, stroking the arms that held him tight. He turned slightly and rubbed his nose against Harry’s.  

 

“I’m so very happy,” he confessed quietly. “I love you.”  

 

He felt Harry’s lips curving into a smile and turned to gaze at the horizon.  

 

“Won’t you miss your work?” he asked, finally. “You’ve spent so much of your life trying to free our world from dark magic. I fear that, once you realise what it means to really retire, you’ll regret your choice. I don’t want you to be unhappy. I don’t want you to regret anything.”  

 

“I won’t. Who said that I can’t keep on fighting for the right cause? The Aurors aren’t the only option. And I’d like to dedicate my time to my kids. I always wanted a family and lately I feel like I didn’t do a great job in that department. I want to take care of Lily and assist her in therapy, I want to stay with Al and Jamie and Teddy as they become men. The next great adventure, is that not worth living? And then …” he went on, tightening his grip on Draco’s hips, lips pressed on the shell of his ear. “And then there’s you. We came a long, long way. And I just want to know how it feels to be with you.”  

 

Draco sighed happily, pressing harder against him.  

 

Suddenly they saw the silhouette of a boy on a broomstick who quickly took off, and then another and another: Scorpius, Albus, James and Lily with Teddy, smiling and greeting and mocking them.  

 

“You could have waited at least the end of the party, dad!” James exclaimed, gliding slowly and raising up again. He had the same graceful flying style of his father.  

 

A snitch appeared on the horizon, along with Rose and Hugo. The hunting began.  

 

Draco and Harry clasped their hands tight as they watch the children soaring in the sky.  
  
  


 


End file.
